Where I Should Be
by shakeitsalome
Summary: Amid the excitement of finally moving up to the main roster, Finn Bálor meets an unconventional beauty. Can unpredictable friendship and unexpected love be enough to purge the demons that keep them from happiness? Finn Bálor/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yes, a new story! I know you're as excited as I am. :) Enjoy!**

Chapter One

"In here, then?" Finn Bálor asked the production assistant that had stopped just outside an open door. The man nodded, motioned for him to go in. Finn took a deep breath before doing so. He was slated for thirty minutes with a blogger. Whose name he'd forgotten in the time it had taken him to walk from the locker room. He knew she blogged for some popular site, but he couldn't remember the name of it. Giving his head a quick shake, he entered the room.

A woman was standing next to a man, fiddling with a camera on a tripod. Finn's eyes swept across the room, taking in the backdrop with the WWE logo set up against the wall. In front of it were two chairs. There was a table with a few bottles of water on it, and another with a camera bag and bits of equipment spread around.

"Oh," the woman blurted, looking up from the camera. Bright blue eyes met his as she crossed to greet him.

"Hello," he greeted, smiling as he extended his hand. "I'm here to see…"

"Violet Lovell," she supplied. Her hand was warm and soft, her grip firm. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bálor."

"Finn, please."

"Thanks so much for making time for me," she said, pulling her hand from his and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. A pair of glasses had been pushed up atop her head. She pulled them down now, blinked behind the lenses, and her lips curved into a bright smile.

"No problem at all," he assured. "Where did you want me?"

"Right there." She indicated the chairs, then turned to grab a pen and notebook from the table while introducing the man behind the camera as Steve.

Finn sat in one of the chairs, instinctively smoothing the front of his shirt. It took a few moments to get situated, and he took the time to covertly look Violet over. An instinct, really. He tended to take stock of people without realizing it, and was usually never caught because he had a penchant for being unassuming. Accepting a bottle of water, he propped one ankle on the opposite knee, eyes following her as she moved around the room.

She was short, with generous curves. More than generous. Her dark brown hair was up in one of those intricately messy buns. Jeans hugged her lower half, and a loose-fitting long-sleeved t-shirt with Lego Batman characters hung to her hips. The sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, and several bracelets adorned each wrist. When she sat down across from him he saw a smattering of freckles on her cheeks. Her smile was warm, friendly, if a little nervous, and it suddenly struck him that her name was vaguely familiar. Gaze dipping to the characters on her torso, he was distracted by the heart-shaped locket hanging from a thin chain.

"If you're ready, we'll get started," she said, balancing the notebook on one knee. Her left hand lifted, fingers brushing over the locket, then slipped it beneath her shirt.

He nodded, trying to remember where he'd heard her name. Christ, he met so many people and saw so many names online, it was impossible to recollect them all. Opening his mouth, he lifted one finger. "Violet Lovell, right?"

"Yes. From CultureFeed." She was still smiling. "Did they send you to me without telling you who I was?"

"No, no. It's been a hectic day. And I thought your name was familiar," he attempted to explain. His lips quirked in the grin he hated. The one that always popped up when he was embarrassed. As casually as possible he rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the sudden warmth in his cheeks. He couldn't understand why, though. Perhaps because he'd just somewhat admitted to reading her articles.

Not that he was ashamed of the fact. Fans always mentioned him in tweets, and when he had a few minutes backstage or in the car he would follow links and read what was being said about him. The woman across from him had written a couple of articles he'd enjoyed. He was pretty sure she was the one who'd written about his work overseas, bringing up matches he could barely remember himself.

"Finn?"

He blinked, lips quirking again, and felt the heat in his cheeks once more. He was so bad at this stuff. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to talk to him for more than a couple minutes. He'd much rather rattle off a few words, stand for a couple photographs and be on his way. After all, the night ahead was going to be a big one for him…

"Sorry," he muttered. Shifting in his chair, he cleared his throat. "Please, start."

"So, I'm here with Finn Bálor," she said. "How are you doing, Finn?"

"I'm doing pretty well."

"I—"

"How are you, Miss Lovell?"

She jerked her head up, a lock of hair falling against her cheek. She seemed surprised that he'd asked. "I'm… Fine," she answered slowly.

He wondered if anyone ever asked her how she was doing. Twisting off the cap of his bottled water, he lifted it for a quick sip and nodded. "Good."

"Good." She pressed her lips together. "As you know, I'm doing a mini-series of documentaries about the WWE, mainly about the lead-up to SummerSlam next month."

He nodded again. Hunter had told him about it earlier. He wanted it put out there how much work went into one of the bigger events. WrestleMania was in a class of its own, and was already chronicled in mainstream media, so now they wanted the public to know about SummerSlam. Thinking of all the paperwork and things that had been gone over during his meeting with Hunter and Vince McMahon, he recalled signing off his permission to be profiled. In the excitement, he'd probably signed off on something he would later regret. He hoped not, but there was always the chance.

"Steve and I will be following you and the rest of the men and women for the next few weeks. No doubt you'll get sick of us, or mainly sick of me, asking questions and poking my nose in, so I'll apologize now."

Finn waved the apology away with one hand. He doubted he'd see much of her outside of this interview. How much could she possibly have to ask him? He was the new kid. He didn't know anything about the inner workings of Raw or SmackDown. At least, not yet. He'd been backstage enough to know that it was completely different from NXT. At first it had seemed the same, but now he knew better. A few things that he'd fallen in love with down in NXT were missing from the main roster shows.

"I've just got a few run-of-the-mill questions…" She looked down at her notepad. "But first, I have to know one thing."

"Yeah?"

Violet leaned forward, expression serious. "When are you going to debut on the main roster?"

He laughed, because her nose wrinkled as she asked it, and because people had been asking him the same question for months. "You know I couldn't answer that, even if I knew."

"I know," she sighed, slumping back. "But you can't blame me for trying." She cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders. "Okay, to the real questions now. How long have you been wrestling?"

"Over sixteen years."

"What inspired you to step into a ring?" she went on, glancing to her notes again.

It occurred to him that she was one of only a handful of people who'd used physical notes when interviewing him.

Looking up, she smiled. "I'm a fan myself, obviously. And sometimes I get caught up in all of it while watching and think 'I could totally do that' or 'I'd love to do that.' But thinking and doing are two different things."

"Oh, absolutely. When you're a kid you don't think about how many times the guy on TV had to practice a flip before he got it right. But it was a huge part of me growing up. I'd tell people that was what I wanted to be. A wrestler." Encouraged by her warm, understanding smile, he felt himself relax. "Imagine a scrawny thing that's all legs and arms… That was me. I didn't know how I was going to do it, I just knew I wanted to."

"Was your family supportive?"

"Yeah, totally. My dad especially. He would have supported me in whatever I wanted to do, as long as I put in the work. He's one of those that started at the bottom and worked his way up. And when I got old enough to start training and everything he said to me that as long as I worked at it he and my mother would do all they could to help me." He made a mental note to call his parents after the interview. They would want to hear the news.

"So you started training, and then came the work in England?"

She'd done her research. Or maybe she just already knew. She said she was a fan, and the articles she'd done made it obvious she was aware of his wrestling timeline. Taking another sip of water, he began to talk about those first years, relaxing more with each encouraging nod from her. And he was delighted to see her face light up with recognition when he mentioned names of those he'd worked with before going to Japan. Occasionally she would scribble something on the pad in her lap.

He was positive he'd talked entirely too long when she began asking about his work in Japan. The water in the bottle was nearly gone. He was aware of Steve leaning against the table behind the camera, messing with his phone.

"We're almost out of time," Violet said suddenly with a glance at her watch. "Hopefully we'll be able to get some more things in later, but there was one thing I wanted to ask you."

"Go ahead," he said, lightly tapping his now-empty water bottle against his knee.

"It's obvious you've had to make many sacrifices, because you've been doing this for so long and have achieved so much. What are some things you've had to give up, or go without completely, to make this dream a reality?"

The water bottle stopped tapping. It was a sudden question, coming so soon after what had felt like a casual discussion about wrestling in Japan. Finn exhaled. "Sacrifices…" he trailed, reaching to rub his chin. It was time to get his beard trimmed. "Probably the biggest would be family and relationships. I don't get to see my family back home very often. And I've got great friendships with several of the guys here. Like Matt Bloom. He kind of took me under his wing in Japan. Shinsuke, too. And Sami Zayn… I consider them family in a way. But… I don't get a chance to make new friends that often. I'm on the road so much, it's hard to get to know people outside of work."

She was nodding, and he glanced up from his knee to see a brief flash of sadness in her eyes.

"I mean, there's probably plenty of time, really," he went on. "But… If I meet someone in, say, Chicago, I'm usually only there for a day or so before I'm gone. And the chances are high that I won't see that person again."

"Have there been people you've met that you look back now and think, 'I really wish I'd tried to make something work' or do you just push ahead and try not think about that sort of thing at all?"

He was quiet for a moment. He hadn't expected such in-depth questions. Not about his personal life, at least. He always strived to keep that as private as possible. Gazing at but not really seeing her face, he sighed. She wasn't delving too deeply into what he wanted to keep to himself. "I try not to think about it," he said softly. "But sometimes I do worry that I've met someone who could have been important in my life and I'll feel guilty that I didn't take the time to realize it. At the same time, though, I tell myself that if I did, I'd recognize it."

He hadn't yet, but he couldn't say _that_. Just like he couldn't say that he was scared to make those efforts. Because what if he did and it was all for nothing?

She shifted slightly, and the movement brought her face into focus. That flash of sadness behind the glasses again. One corner of her mouth tilted upwards in a rueful smile and he knew. She understood. He didn't know how she could, or even how he could know she did, but she did.

And he wondered if maybe, just once, he should try to make an effort.

"Do you—"

She was interrupted by a knock on the half-open door. Finn sat up, recognizing the production assistant that had led him to the room, then looked to his watch. They'd talked for more than forty-five minutes. And there were a million things he had to do before the show started. He needed to grab a bite. Meet his opponent for the night to go over a plan of action. Find a quiet corner and remember how to breathe.

"I'm so sorry," she was saying, flipping back through the pages in her notebook to close it.

"Lost track of time," Steve said from behind the camera, where he was pushing buttons and suddenly not interested in his phone at all.

"It's fine," Finn assured as he got to his feet. "You said you had more things to ask me?"

"Yes, but I can get to them later. Tomorrow, or maybe this weekend if you're on the live show loop?"

"I am." He watched her stand, watched that lock of hair get pushed behind her ear again. "You'll be here all night, then?"

"That's the plan. I'm looking forward to it. I've been to Raw before, but I've never been backstage."

"Have you had a tour?" he asked suddenly. Of course she had. They wouldn't let a journalist in without showing her where she was and wasn't allowed.

"I was shown around a little before they led me here."

"I'm going down to Catering." He saw her eyes widen a little at the sudden announcement, and he reached to rub the back of his neck. "Would you like a bite to eat?" Then, realizing she was working, he began to backpedal. "Sorry, you probably have a thousand things to do and more guys to talk to—"

"No, I'm free for a little bit." Her freckled cheeks were now tinged with pink. "If you don't mind showing me how to get there."

Catering was in a room to itself. Finn had been told that it wasn't a regular occurrence, and sometimes a portion of the backstage area had to be sectioned off for the buffet-style tables and sitting areas. He motioned for her to precede him into the room, recognizing shyness when she faltered before doing so. He followed her, instantly glancing around for familiar faces. One table was taken up by members of the road crew, and there were a few other people spread around. A couple had earbuds in and were focused on their phones, the universal sign for wanting to be left alone. At the table furthest from the door, though, he spied two very familiar faces and began to grin.

"Excuse me," he murmured to Violet, who was staring at the laden tables with something akin to horror. She nodded and he headed over to greet his friends.

"What are you doing here?" Sami Zayn questioned with a wide grin, abandoning his food and pushing to his feet. Finn was quickly caught in a brief hug that took the wind from him, and returned it with vigor.

"Oh, you know, getting my feet wet," Finn answered evasively. He'd been given strict orders not to tell a soul. And while he knew that Sami and Kevin wouldn't breathe a word, who knew what the road crew would do? Slapping Sami on the back as they both stepped away, he turned to the man rising from the table. "Hiya, Kevin."

"Good to see you, man," Kevin Owens enthused, catching him in another hug. "You doing alright?"

"Yeah." Finn grunted at the tight squeeze, grinning when he was released.

"Did you just get here?" Sami asked as he reclaimed his seat. He pushed the empty chair next to him out in a silent invitation.

"No, I've been here a couple hours. Had a meeting with the boss. And then an interview."

"Have they pulled you into the behind the scenes thing, too?" Kevin sat down and reached for his drink. "I've got an interview in an hour."

"Oh yeah, I've got one at five," Sami interjected, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork. "They're going to be with us on the road for a couple weeks, right?"

"I think so, yeah," Finn answered, glancing back to Violet. She didn't look as though she'd moved an inch, but she was holding a bottle of Gatorade and talking to Sasha Banks. "That's her there."

Sami and Kevin both leaned to look at her, and settled back in their seats at the same time.

"How is she?" Kevin inquired.

Finn looked back again, then turned his attention to his friends. "She's good. She knows her stuff."

"So it wasn't you sitting there while she went on and on about your abs?" Sami guessed with a chuckle.

"Not hardly," Finn groaned. "It was a good interview."

Sami looked up from his plate just as Finn turned from glancing back at Violet yet again. His dark red eyebrows rose slightly, and he tilted his head to one side. Glancing from Finn to the woman across the room and back again, he cleared his throat. "Why don't you bring her over and introduce her? Huh, Kevin?"

"Yeah, sure." Kevin lifted his drink. "As long as she doesn't start going on and on about Finn's abs."

Rolling his eyes, Finn muttered that he'd be back and made his way to Violet. Sasha flashed him a brilliant smile and leaned in for a quick hug.

"I gotta go, but I'll talk to you soon," she said, poking him gently in the chest as she pulled away. Then, smiling warmly at Violet, she added, "And I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Great meeting you."

"You too." Violet smiled in return, watching the woman leave the room. She looked to Finn, her nose wrinkling briefly. "She's nice."

"You sound surprised."

"I'm not, really," she assured, nodding when he motioned to the nearest table. "Everyone I've met today has been wonderful. But you know, sometimes it's hard to differentiate between an on-screen personalities and the actual person."

He moved his head in agreement, letting silence fall between them as he filled his plate. When she turned and glanced around, he saw another glimpse of shyness and motioned to the table where Kevin and Sami were. By the time he'd grabbed a drink she was across the room, smiling and shaking Kevin's hand. Sami was quick to pull out a chair, and Finn claimed the seat next to her.

"Are you based in the area?" Kevin was asking.

"No, I'm in Miami. That's what sold me on the job. I've wanted to live there since I was little and watched _The Golden Girls_."

"The what now?" Finn asked.

Violet turned to look at him, eyes wide in surprise. "You've never heard of _The Golden Girls_? Blanche and Dorothy and Sophia and Rose?" When he shook his head slowly, her lips parted into a small 'o' and she waved one hand. "It's only one of the greatest American sitcoms ever. It never fails to make me laugh."

"My wife watches it sometimes," Kevin announced. "It's pretty funny, man, you should check it out."

"You wanted to move to Miami because of a TV show?" Sami inquired after a moment.

Violet nodded, li fting her paper napkin to cover her mouth as she chewed. "It always seemed so fun, you know? The wicker furniture and lots of windows… And cheesecake to solve life's problems."

"Where are you from originally?" Finn asked.

"I was born in Pennsylvania, but we moved to Atlanta when I was little." She was looking at Kevin. "I was looking at your tweets earlier. You have two kids?"

"Two angels," Kevin confirmed with a smile. The smile that, Finn knew, only came out when he spoke of his wife or children. It was the same smile that lit up his brothers' faces when they talked of their own kids. Kevin was pulling out his wallet.

Finn smiled, looking to his plate. He was always amused by the fact the man kept snapshots of his wife and children in his wallet, when he had a phone not six inches from his hand that was loaded with photos of them. Amused and touched, because he knew most men didn't keep anything but money, ID, and cards in their wallets. He knew he didn't. Of course he didn't have a family.

Yet.

"Well, if we're sharing pics of our kids…" Sami reached for his phone.

Finn looked up in time to see Violet jerk her head in Sami's direction. "You have kids?" she blurted.

"Two," he informed with a vigorous nod. "Doyle and Marky."

Lowering his head, Finn snorted on a laugh, aware of Kevin doing the same across from him. And, seconds later, he heard Violet begin to giggle.

"I can definitely see the resemblance," she managed, handing Sami's phone back to him. "Especially… Doyle, right? He has your…Nose. And Marky definitely has your… Whiskers. I really—"

Whatever else she was going to say was lost in a huge snort of laughter, which only caused Finn and Kevin to laugh harder. Finn could feel curious looks being sent in their direction but was powerless to stop the laughter, especially when Sami joined in. It felt good, to laugh so freely, and Finn felt some of his anxiety for the night ahead begin to slip away.

Once the humor had died down and they had resumed eating, Finn quietly listened in as Violet chatted amiably with the two other men. He felt no need to interject, occasionally nodding when one of them glanced in his direction for confirmation of a statement. By doing so, he was able to learn several tidbits about the woman next to him.

She'd become a fan of wrestling as a little girl, when she'd found it on TV one Saturday morning. She'd loved writing since her first years in school, and joining her two loves in a blog had made sense. She had been on the CultureFeed staff for three years. She had no pets, but she did have a small cactus on her desk at home, and she'd named it Ricardo.

Ricardo the cactus. Finn almost began laughing again.

"You'll be on the road with us how long?" Sami asked. He and Kevin had finished eating, but neither of them seemed in a hurry to leave.

"From today until the SmackDown after SummerSlam." Violet laid her napkin on her plate and reached for her drink. "So I'm sure you'll get sick of me."

"Will you be returning to Miami on off days?" This from Kevin.

"No, I'll actually be staying in Orlando. I've gotten permission to do a little bit on NXT and the Performance Center, so I'll be there getting what I can." She pushed that same lock of hair behind her ear yet again. "From what Triple H – er, Hunter – said, I'm getting a chance that most journalists don't get. It's not going to be some tell-all exposé, but I want to show as many sides as I can. A lot of fans just see the excitement. The bright lights and pyrotechnics and thousands of people screaming for their favorite. I want to be able to show a little of what fans don't get to see. The hours in the gym, the long rides to the next city, things like that."

"I don't think fans understand what goes into the few hours they see every week," Sami mused. "And some fans don't even know about house shows."

"They don't," Violet agreed. "A couple of people I work with think you guys only go out for one or two matches a week and that's it. They don't realize how unending the schedule is. And I think… Well, I hope, that I'll be able to get some of that across. I'm not saying I know everything, or even that I can fully understand what you go through on a weekly basis. But I do know that I want to know as much as I can, and I know that a lot of fans want to know, too."

"It's not glamorous," Finn said, and when three faces turned in his direction he realized it was the first time he'd spoken in quite a while. "But most of us aren't here for the glamour."

Sami and Kevin were nodding.

"Why are you here?" Violet questioned softly.

"Because I'm insane." It was an honest answer. He'd said before that a person had to be insane to do his job. Propping his elbows on the table, he rested his chin on one hand "And because I love it. I love wrestling."

"Yeah," Sami agreed. "Except for a few that were born into it, we're all just fans at heart. We took it to the extreme, but we do it because we love it."

"And we've made friendships that will never die," Kevin added. "I've known Sami for ages, and Finn for a few years. If I'd pursued something else, I wouldn't have them in my life." He smiled. "I wouldn't be able to tour the world doing something I love with people I love."

"Amen to that." Finn was grinning now. "Even when I'm fuc—" He glanced to Violet and cleared his throat. "Even when I'm exhausted and only have an hour to spare, I like to get out and see the sites."

"I go see the zoos," Kevin chuckled.

"I've never been to a zoo," Violet murmured.

Finn watched Kevin's face slip into a mask of disbelief.

"You've never been to the zoo?" he asked, his tone that of a man who'd just been told someone had never seen an airplane.

"No…" Violet's cheeks were rosy pink. "I feed the ducks and geese in the park sometimes, but that's as close to wild animals as I've ever been."

Before Kevin could comment further, she looked to her watch and made a small noise of surprise.

"I have to get back," she said, pushing her chair back. She reached for her empty plate, but Finn pulled it out of her reach.

"I'll get it," he promised.

"Thanks." Getting to her feet, she sent a smile around the table. "And thanks for the talk. I'll see you around."

Finn rose as well, catching the chair when she bumped into it and nearly sent it toppling. "We'll finish up the rest of the questions soon, yeah?"

"Tomorrow, if you can spare the time." She flashed him a shy smile. "Thanks again."

He watched her go, deciding he would definitely be able to spare the time. When he turned back to get the trash, he found Sami watching him curiously, and Kevin studying the screen of his phone.

"She's nice," Sami pointed out, stretching before he stood. "What are you doing?"

"Never been to a zoo," Kevin muttered. Glancing up, he looked to the empty chair then back at her phone. "I've got to go have an interview with someone who's never been to a zoo…"

"Cheer up," Finn laughed, clapping Kevin on the back. "She's fed the ducks and geese at the park."

Sami nodded enthusiastically, also clapping Kevin's back. "And she probably won't bring up Finn's abs!"

* * *

"Thank you so much," Violet said again, waving goodbye to Charlotte as the statuesque blonde left the room. Once she was gone, she released a sigh and rubbed the back of her neck, moving to help Steve pack up. "All I've done is ask questions half the day and I'm exhausted."

"You'll feel better after a good night's sleep," Steve assured.

"Good night's sleep," she muttered, taking the memory card from the camera and stowing it in her backpack. "By the time we get to the next town, get checked in, and get into our rooms, we might have five hours of sleep."

"Six if we're lucky."

Steve was older, mid-forties she was sure, but had the energy of men half his age. Violet was slightly jealous that he seemed to have more energy than she did. His work in photojournalism sent him to various places across the country on a regular basis, though, whereas she tended to sit behind a desk day in and day out. She was glad he'd requested to join her on the assignment. Boundless energy aside, he was nice. And for some reason, his graying hair and the reading glasses perpetually tucked atop his head comforted her. Probably because he resembled a kindly librarian. And she'd always had a soft spot for librarians.

"Got everything?" she asked for the second time once the camera was packed away and she had her own things tucked into her backpack. Needing to be especially sure, she reopened the bag and triple-checked that she had her pens, her notebooks. Her wallet. The camera's memory card, so she could go over the footage on her laptop. Her laptop… Where was her laptop? She whirled around, breathing a sigh of relief when she spotted it on the table next to the door. Just as she was crossing to get it, a man filled the doorway.

"Just the person I was looking for," Kevin Owens announced, mopping sweat from his brow with a towel. There was a faint trace of blood next to his nose, and when he brought the towel over his face it disappeared.

"Me?" Violet was surprised. Why would anyone be looking for her?

"Yeah, I had a couple questions. Hey, man, how's it going?" he said to Steve, who was shouldering the camera bag.

Questions? For her? Stumped, Violet lightly hugged the laptop to her chest and nodded when Steve sent her a curious look. "You go ahead. I'll be out in a few minutes.

"Sure thing."

Kevin stepped aside to let him go, then turned to Violet with a quick smile. "Are you driving out tonight?"

"Yes." It made more sense to leave right after the show, as opposed to potentially oversleeping and having to speed to get to the next venue on time. Not that she had a set schedule, but she had to get as much material as possible in a short amount of time.

"Most people do," he said, leaning against the table and rubbing the towel over his head to catch more perspiration.

"Did you just have a match?" she guessed. Stuck backstage as she was, she hadn't been able to watch Raw. She would have to stream it from her DVR back home on her laptop. All she knew was that Finn Bálor had made his main roster debut. To everyone's excitement, going by the reactions of the people she'd interviewed. As he was one of her favorite wrestlers from NXT, she was sad she'd missed seeing it live.

"Yeah. Dark match." Looping the towel around his neck, he gripped either end and looked at her. "Do you have plans in the morning before getting to the arena?"

"Not really," she answered after a few seconds of thought. Mainly wondering why he was so curious. "I want to go over the interviews I did tonight, but it doesn't have to be done first thing. …Why?"

"I'm going to the Metro Zoo. I went last year, but they've got new cheetah cubs that the public can finally see in the exhibit. So, what do you say?"

"Huh?" She winced at the sound that came from her mouth. It resembled the angry honks of the geese at the park she visited occasionally. Exhaling from the corner of her mouth, she gave her head a slight shake. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's a nice zoo. Small. Plenty of shade, which is nice this time of year. You want to go?"

She stared at him. This large, serious, somewhat bear of a man was inviting her to go to the zoo. The zoo, of all places. Hugging the laptop closer to her, she wondered why exactly he wanted her to go. Sure, their interview had gone well. He was a likeable guy. Serious about his work and mindful of the hard work it had taken him to get to where he was. And as intimidating as he was, he was modest and almost jovial. Blinking slowly, she was about to vocalize her question when his eyes widened.

"Hey, I'm not asking you on a date," he chuckled. "A couple of the guys are coming, too. Just a few hours of relaxation before we get back to the grind. You can take pictures and put it in your show if you want."

"The zoo," she murmured, unable to keep the smile from pulling at her lips.

"Everyone needs to get to one at least once in their life." He tilted his head. "What do you say?"

She wanted to say he didn't have to go to so much trouble. She wanted to say she thought he was slightly insane for inviting a perfect stranger along. She wanted to ask who the couple of guys were. But, mostly, she wanted to go. It wasn't something she would have ventured to do of her own volition. Smile growing, she began to nod before she could come up with a reason to say no. "I say sure. It sounds like fun."

"It will be." He grinned and slid off the table, then asked which hotel she was going to be staying at. "Perfect," he said when she told him. "We'll meet you in the lobby at nine."

"I'll be there. Thank you," she added.

"No problem. See you tomorrow, I gotta go call my wife."

Nice guy, she thought as she slipped the laptop into her backpack. She looked around to make sure she hadn't left anything out, then left the room and made her way towards the exit. The hubbub she'd witnessed earlier had died down drastically. All the signs taped up, denoting which way to go for whatever one was looking for, were gone. Crewmembers and techs were winding cables and wheeling crates. When she passed the room that Catering had been in, she glanced inside and saw it empty and dark. She rounded a corner, spying a large tub of ice that contained bottles of water and a few sodas. Certain she was headed in the right direction when she saw a few men ahead of her, she watched them go through a door and welcomed the balminess of a summer's night.

"Sorry, excuse me," she said when she bumped into the man in front of her. He'd stopped suddenly, and she quickly stepped back, one hand reaching to rub the end of her nose, which had slammed into the side of his backpack.

He turned, and she recognized his profile before he fully looked at her. He pushed the brim of his cap back, grinning. "Hiya, Violet," he said. "Heading out?"

Why did he look so happy to see her? she wondered, even as she smiled in return. "Yeah, heading out. I didn't mean to walk into you."

"My fault." He held up his phone. "I get to reading tweets and forget what I'm doing."

"Your notifications must be going crazy tonight," she mused, adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder. "I'll have to watch your debut when I get to the next town."

"So will I. I don't really remember any of it," he admitted.

She took a step forward, smiling when he did the same. "Was it a 'blink and you miss it' sort of thing?"

"No, I don't think so. It was… One minute I was standing behind the curtain waiting for my cue. Then I was behind the curtain again talking to Tom. I remember people cheering like I'm a big star…" He shrugged, the movement causing his arm to lightly bump against hers as they walked.

"You are a big star," she murmured.

"Not really, no." He shook his head, reaching to hold the door open for her. Once they were outside, he released a breath. "Warrior, Flair, Bret Hart… Dusty… They're the big stars. They made this business what it is today. I'm just a skinny kid from Ireland."

"You don't think of yourself as a star?"

"Nah." In the glow of the lights of the back parking lot, his eyes twinkled. "It's nice, being recognized for my work, but I can't ever let it get to my head. Especially when there are so many others greater than me out there. I'm just a lucky one."

"It's more than luck," she insisted. Looking across the parking lot, she saw the small car she and Steve had rented. The trunk was open, and Steve was leaning against the passenger door. "And I better get going."

"See you tomorrow," Finn said. "You looking forward to the zoo?"

She'd made a few steps away from him, but that had her turning back. "How did you know about that?"

He began to grin again, eyebrows wiggling, and she allowed herself a few seconds to take in the sight of him. She'd always thought him handsome, but he was even more so in person. His ash gray t-shirt was snug across the shoulders and upper arms, and she let her gaze sweep down over the loose black shorts, slim legs, and gleaming white sneakers.

Handsome and well-dressed, she thought, recalling the black button-down shirt and slacks he'd been wearing when she'd interviewed him earlier. It really should be a crime. She pushed her mind back to the question at hand, though, and tapped one foot against the pavement. "How did you know?"

"A not-so-little birdie told me." He chuckled. "You'll have a great time, lass. We'll see to it."

"We?" she repeated, realization dawning when his teeth flashed in a quick grin. Of course. She should have known that Kevin would invite Finn and Sami along. "Oh. Right."

"See you in the morning, then." He tipped his head. "Get plenty of rest."

"See you," she echoed, watching him walk away. With a shake of her head, she headed in the direction of her and Steve's car. And with each step that took her across the parking lot, she told herself it was just three nice guys being exactly that: nice. Nothing more.

She made a half-hearted attempt at insisting on driving, but Steve was already climbing into the driver's seat by the time she stowed her bag in the backseat. Settling in the passenger side, she murmured agreement when Steve suggested stopping for gas and drinks before hitting the highway. Once they were on the road, each with a few snacks and icy drinks, Steve turned the radio to a classic rock station.

"Good first day?" he asked, adjusting the volume so he could be heard over the song playing.

"Good first day," she said with a smile. "I got a lot of interviews done, which is the main thing I wanted to get done first. We've got a few to do tomorrow."

"I'll set up the camera for you then get some footage of other things," he promised. "Hey, kid, don't worry. This is going to turn out great."

"I hope so."

"I know so. You know your stuff. And you've got more permission that I would have gotten at your age. Plus, you're just damn good."

Violet smiled, rolling an M&M between her fingers. She hoped she was 'damn good'. The things she'd seen and heard while backstage had made her realize she didn't know so much about the business after all. Her perceptions had been skewed when she saw things from a fan's point of view. She'd let her assumptions cloud her judgment, especially when it came to some of the talent. A couple she'd always viewed as just being in the company because of their family or other connections had talked of being turned away time and time again, and being sent off for further training before they could accomplish their dream of standing in a WWE ring. Not to mention just how much went on backstage… She doubted that she would get used to so many people going to and fro, everything seemingly in chaos but managing to fall into place at the last second, even if she were to follow the tour around the world for a year.

She hadn't been involved in the to and fro, or the chaos, but she was exhausted. Traversing the labyrinth of corridors, just to go to the restroom, had made her realize just how out of shape she was. And so many of the people she watched on TV every week had jogged back and forth, as though they were just trotting down to get the morning paper. Her feet hurt. Her legs hurt. Her favorite jeans, the one she reached for because they were broken in and comfortable, were now itchy and too snug. And she could feel a blister forming on her big toe.

Even so, she was excited. She looked forward to learning more, to getting more insight from the people who did this week in and week out for the entire year. Just as she looked forward to making a good impression on her bosses. The hipsters that thought pro-wrestling was barbaric and archaic. She would work her abundant ass off to produce a stellar series of documentaries for the website. And maybe, just maybe, she would catch the attention of a more reputable news source.

Maybe.

She hoped.

She dreamed.

* * *

 **A/N: CultureFeed is obviously ripped from two somewhat popular sites... Because I'm lame and couldn't come up with anything better.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Compared to others he'd seen, or more realistically, others that Kevin had dragged him to, the zoo was small. Finn looked at the map posted on the wall next to the ticket window while Kevin chatted with the attendant about cheetah cubs and an old orangutan. Hands in the pockets of his shorts, he half-listened to Sami and Violet murmuring about the merchandise visible through the door of the gift shop, which was closed. The attendant had cheerfully told them they were the first guests of the day. Finn wasn't surprised. Kevin had made sure they were in the parking lot a full fifteen minutes before the place opened.

"What do you want to see first?" Kevin asked as he stepped through the turnstile and opened his copy of the zoo's map.

"Can we see the reptiles?" Violet answered with a hopeful lilt in her voice.

"Let's go."

"Reptiles," Sami muttered with a shudder as he fell into step next to Kevin.

"I don't think I'll mind them as long as there's a pane of glass between me and them," Violet defended. Every few steps, she glanced up from the pamphlet she was reading. "Oh, they have tarantulas!"

"You like spiders?" Finn inquired, chuckling when he saw Sami shudder again.

"I don't take kindly to the ones that end up in my bedroom now and then, but they've never bothered me. There's always one or two up in the corner of my living room and I leave them be. They keep the place fly-free during the summer, so… Plus, one of my teachers in elementary school had a pet tarantula that she brought to class sometimes. It was really neat to see."

The reptile house was cool and damp, with a lingering odor in the air that caused Finn's nose to wrinkle. He enjoyed seeing Violet's face light up as she viewed the various snakes, lizards, and frogs in their respective habitats. Mildly surprised when she pointed out a particular frog and named its natural diet without even glancing at the placard, he couldn't help but smile. She was practically nose-to-nose with a coiled boa constrictor when Sami made a pained sound from the doorway.

"Come on, man," Kevin laughed, glancing over from his spot in front of a tank of scorpions. "They can't hurt you."

"I've seen Harry Potter enough to know the glass can just disappear," Sami muttered.

"Only if one of us speaks Parseltongue," Violet quipped.

They walked out into the morning heat a few moments later, and Finn breathed in the fresher air gratefully. There seemed to be no set plan of action, so they followed the paved trail down the hill, where they stopped to watch a group of lemurs eat fresh fruit. It was cooler in the shade. Finn slowed when he realized Violet was no longer at his side, and turned to see her looking off in the distance.

"There's a giraffe bridge," she explained when she saw him looking at her. Her cheeks were tinged with pink, and she looked to her pamphlet again. "'Get up close and personal with these majestic creatures on our special bridge that brings you eye-to-eye with our giraffes,'" she read. "Can we go there next?"

Finn glanced over his shoulder to see Kevin and Sami had turned left at the fork in the trail. They would catch up eventually. "Sure thing."

"Giraffes are probably my favorite," she murmured once she was by his side again.

"Mine too," he admitted.

They followed the trail, taking a right at the fork. Caught by the excitement that shone in her eyes, Finn barely noticed the things they passed as they climbed the hill leading to the bridge. Until she stopped at a sign with information about giraffes. "They're so ridiculous looking, aren't they?" She glanced to him. "Knobby knees and necks out of this world. But up close they're beautiful."

"Have you seen one up close before?" he asked once they'd moved on, certain she'd said she'd never come close to wild animals before. Ducks and geese in the park aside, of course.

"No, only on TV and in pictures. But – Wow."

They'd reached the bridge. Finn noticed built-in stepstools for kids, and a coin machine that doled out treats for the giraffes. He watched Violet fish change out of her pocket, and wasn't surprised when she filled three of the offered cups with the treats. She leaned against the railing, looking out into the paddock. A gentle breeze lifted the lock of hair from her cheek and sent it dancing against her ear. It wasn't until the breeze carried her soft sigh towards him that he looked beyond her and saw the stately animals filing towards them. Recalling his previous encounters with the beasts, he quickly retrieved his phone and brought up the camera so he could capture the moment for her.

If she wanted the moment she was all but molested by a giraffe to be captured, of course.

There was something magical about her expression as she watched the giraffes begin loping to the bridge. A sort of childlike anticipation. One he hadn't experienced himself in a long while. Sitting on one of the stepstools, hopefully out of the danger zone, he sneakily shot a photo of her, then closed the camera long enough to send Kevin a message that they'd gotten sidetracked and would catch up to them soon.

He grinned, watching her on the screen, as she was greeted by an eager giraffe. It snuffled her hand, then practically nuzzled her neck before it found the treats. He wasn't sure what was louder, her squeal when a long tongue slurped over her cheek, or his laughter when it happened again. Distracted, he didn't notice the giraffe's head looming above him. And, feeling something tickle the back of his neck, he lurched upward with a yelp, stumbling against Violet, who began to laugh when the giraffe followed him.

"I think she likes you," she giggled, scrunching her neck when another of the beasts pushed itself forward to sniff her out.

"I like her, too, but—" Finn cut off with a high-pitched squeak, ducking to avoid the tongue that swiped across his jaw.

"Let's go," Violet managed between giggles, scattering the treats on the railing and breaking away from the fray. Her hand caught his arm, tugging, and he followed her off the bridge. "Gross," she groaned once they were a safe distance away from the giraffes. "I didn't know it would be so slimy."

"You've got, um…" Finn motioned to her hair. "One of them slimed your hair."

She instantly reached up, nose wrinkling in disgust when her palm met the place he indicated. "Your neck is wet," she pointed out, using her uncontaminated hand to fish out her map. "There must be a restroom nearby…"

There was, just around the bend. Finn hesitated when he saw it was a family restroom, but Violet brushed off his indecision and pushed the door open. They were just going to wash up, she reminded him. With a shrug, he followed her inside, shivering at the sudden blast of cooled air.

"I think I'll stick to admiring giraffes from afar," she announced, removing the clip that held her hair.

"I think that's a good decision," he laughed, leaning around her to retrieve paper towels to wet and clean his neck. He caught a faint whiff of apples as her hair spilled down past her shoulders, and another when she leaned to turn on the tap. Despite the slightly cramped quarters and single sink, they managed to not get in each other's way too much as they washed away the giraffe spit.

Once back outside, blinking in the sudden brightness, she took a moment to gather her long hair at the back of her head, securing it with the clip. Finn breathed in the aroma of apples that the breeze sent in his direction, gaze on that one unruly lock that immediately fell against her cheek. He almost reached to brush it back but refrained at the last second.

"When did we lose Sami and Kevin?" she asked.

Laughing, Finn pulled out his phone. "Before the giraffes," he explained. "They went in the other direction."

"Did you want to find them?" She bit her bottom lip. "Because I'd really like to see the big cats."

"That's probably were they are," he assured, nodding as he read the message he'd received from Kevin. "Kevin's found the cheetah cubs."

She looked away, in the direction they'd come. And, able to read her expression, he chuckled.

"We'll take the long way."

By the time they found Kevin and Sami, they'd seen the primates, two Galapagos tortoises, and three peacocks. His friends were watching a Bengal tiger wash itself in the shade of a large tree. Sami looked up as they approached, smiling.

"Where did you two get off to?" he inquired, scooting to make room for them at the railing.

"Giraffes," Finn muttered, instantly reaching to rub his neck. Even though he'd washed it laboriously with hand soap and paper towels, he could still feel the slime of the giraffe's tongue.

"Did you get yourself a girlfriend again?" Sami teased, having heard the tale of Finn's first experience with the animals.

"Why the hell do they like my neck so fuckin' much?" Finn grumbled, snorting on a laugh when Sami grinned.

The redheaded man's levity faded, and his head twitched in Violet's direction. She was already in deep conversation with Kevin, hands moving to make a point as she spoke. When Finn looked back to his friend, he found a pair of brown eyes regarding him curiously. "She's nice," the man said simply.

"Yeah," Finn agreed. When Sami tilted his head, he cleared his throat and pointedly looked out at the tiger. He seemed unconcerned that he had an audience, back legs splayed as he thoroughly washed his impressive genitalia in full public view. He then rolled onto his back, wallowing in the grass, before standing and giving his body a shake. Paws the size of Finn's head padded across to where a female tiger lay sunning herself, and he was surprised at the sudden flare of envy when the two butted heads. The male stretched out next to his mate, their heads still together, and he could just hear the gentle timbre of a purr.

He didn't realize Kevin was speaking to him until Sami jabbed an elbow into his ribs. Startled, he lightly rubbed the spot, looking over Violet's head to his other friend. "Yeah?"

"Sky ride over the Sahara exhibits. You in?"

"Sure, yeah, sounds great." His gaze dropped to Violet, and he thought he saw a flash of sickness cross her features before her lips pulled into a forced smile. Pushing away from the railing, he glanced out that the pair of tigers again, smiling faintly when the female nuzzled closer to the male. Then, falling into step next to Violet, he lightly bumped her shoulder with his. "Having fun?"

"It's amazing." She pushed her glasses up on her nose. "I had always pictured desolate animals locked in tiny cages. Like in the old cartoons. But they all look content. Kevin was telling me that this zoo is heavily involved in repopulation of endangered species, and that they only keep animals that can't survive in the wild."

"Kevin would know. If you ever have a question about a zoo, he's got the answer you need."

"Does he drag you out with him all the time?"

"This is the first time in a while." Their steps slowed as they approached a group of kids. Finn gently grasped Violet's elbow and guided her to the left side of the trail. "With me being down at NXT until this week, there hasn't been much opportunity. And he doesn't really have to drag me. I like coming to them. It's fun, seeing him turn into a great big kid."

"I guess we all have something that turns us into great big kids," she mused. She didn't pull her arm away, and didn't seem to mind that he didn't release it immediately. "At least, we should, right?"

"We should," he agreed. "What turns you into a great big kid, Violet?"

"You'll laugh."

"Cross my heart, I won't." He made a show of slowly crossing his heart with his forefinger, grinning when she snorted.

"Okay, fine." Her tongue darted over her lips. "New notebooks and pens."

"Why?" He slowly released her elbow.

"I used to get so excited when my mom and I went back-to-school shopping. I didn't care about new clothes and shoes, but I was over the moon when it came to picking out notebooks and paper and folders…" Her smile was sublime. "I loved getting home and going through them. Choosing which notebook I would use for which subject. And I love the smell of them. There's a crispness in new paper before it's written in. I still love sitting at my desk and flipping through all the blank pages."

"And pens?" he asked softly.

"Getting to mark those blank pages," she explained, leaning to avoid a tree branch that blocked her way. "With just a few muscles I can record anything in ink. My innermost secrets. Lists of things I need or want to do. Recipes. When I start a new article, it's always with pen in a notebook. It's easier to make little notes to myself in the margins. Don't get me wrong, dong it all on a computer is wonderful, too. But for me, nothing will ever beat the scratch of a pen against paper."

He remembered her scribbling away during their interview the day before. At the time he had paid little attention to it, but now he realized it was a rarity. Most people that interviewed him made notes on their phone or iPad. "Isn't it faster if you do it on computer?"

"It is," she agreed. "And I prefer computer when I know what I'm going to write. When I'm just starting something, though, I go for pen and paper. I have to focus on my words, and it makes me dig deeper to get what I want to say out of my brain." She looked up at him, lightly bumping her shoulder against him. "You probably think I'm crazy."

"No, no, it makes sense. I can appreciate a pen and notebook. It's how I come up with designs for my body paint."

"You do that?" she asked, obviously surprised. "I didn't know."

"I do. Some of the ideas come from fan art, but I still sketch it out before committing to a design." Up ahead of them, he saw Sami and Kevin waiting next to a water fountain. Just beyond the fountain was a sign pointing to the sky ride.

"What about you? What turns you into a great big kid?"

"And you said you were a fan," he scoffed lightly, surprising himself. The teasing came to him naturally, and he couldn't think of anyone he hadn't known for years that he could tease.

"Lego," she guessed.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "It's one thing I never outgrew. Aside from wrestling."

"Do you like it because it reminds you of being a kid? Or is it just a relaxation method? Like I doodle at my desk when I can't work out a particular part of an article…"

"Relaxation," he answered with a nod. "And it does remind me of being a kid. I can turn off the outside world and work on that puzzle for a while. No different from people who do jigsaw puzzles or crosswords, really."

"Do you have a lot of them?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of the closet in his apartment that was stuffed with kits he hadn't yet opened. "A few," he evaded. "Well, more than a few. But it's my main hobby."

"What do you do when you've finished one? You buy the kits, right?"

He nodded, ducking to get a quick drink of water from the fountain. "I put them up on the shelf," he said, wiping his mouth with his hand. "Sami'll tell you lies about how many I have, though, so don't ask him."

"Lego?" Sami laughed. "Don't listen to him, Miss Lovell. You can barely walk through his place without knocking into something made out of Lego."

"Now I'm picturing a place filled with Lego furniture," Violet teased after getting a drink from the fountain. "And it's Violet."

"I just do the kits," Finn promised, rolling his eyes. "And it's not so many."

"He's got so many he can't remember what he already has," Kevin informed, slipping his phone into his pocket. Finn glanced at his watch and knew the man had been exchanging his usual texts with his wife. He could practically set his watch by them, for they were always at the same times throughout the day.

"That's only happened one…okay, a few times," Finn conceded, feeling the tips of his ears start to warm from all the teasing. "And I give the duplicates to little Owen."

"Saves me a ton of money," Kevin confided to Violet as they moved down the side path leading to the sky line. "But it drives Finn crazy, because my boy doesn't follow the directions. He's still in the tower-building stage."

"And the tower-destroying stage," Sami added with a chuckle.

The width of the path forced Finn to walk behind the other three. Not that he minded. He smiled as he walked along, enjoying the banter of his friends as they chatted with Violet. For some reason, he was grateful that they seemed to enjoy her company. They must have, or they wouldn't be teasing him in front of her. But why was he so pleased that they liked her? He mulled it over as they moved up the incline. He liked her. That was easy enough to see. She was easy to talk to, even when asking him questions no interviewer had asked before. There was just something about her that put him at ease. He didn't feel the usual awkwardness, the urge to slip away, that he always experienced when plopped down next to a member of the opposite sex that he hadn't known for ages.

"Finn?"

He'd been staring at the packed earth of the trail. Lifting his head, he saw they'd reached the top of the incline. And he'd stopped moving. Violet was looking back, and despite the distance he could see her concern.

Concern. For him.

* * *

"Everything okay?" Violet asked when Finn reached she and the others. Behind her, Kevin was chatting with the man running the sky ride.

"Sorry, just got lost in thought," he answered, smiling briefly. He looked up, gaze following the first incline of the ride. "That's higher than I thought it would be."

Violet swallowed, refusing to look for herself. Instead, she focused on folding her map and tucking it into her pocket, then made sure that her phone, wallet, and lip balm were securely tucked in her other pockets. Not wanting to be a drag, she hadn't demurred when Kevin had suggested the ride in a glorified lawn chair that would glide over a portion of the zoo. Now they were about to get aboard, though, she wished she'd spoken up. Wished she'd said she would meet them at the end of the line. But it was too late now. As inconspicuously as possible she wiped her sweaty palms against her thighs, grateful that none of the men were paying any attention to her.

"C'mon," Finn said, and she jerked her head up to look at him. Just beyond his head she saw one of the cars going up, with Kevin and Sami inside. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she focused on Finn's face in time to see his eyebrows lift. "You okay?"

"Fine," she promised, her voice betraying the anxiety that had knotted her stomach. Surprising herself, she moved forward, reaching for her wallet to pay the small fee. The man at the gate waved her through, saying that it had been taken care of, and she made a mental note to repay Kevin later. Once inside the car, which to her seemed smaller than the one Kevin and Sami had taken, she drew in a deep breath and held it, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten when Finn climbed in beside her. The car swayed and the bar had barely been latched before she gripped it.

"Small spaces or heights?" Finn asked softly.

"What?"

"Whatever's got you holding on for dear life." Warm fingers lightly patted her hand and she looked down. Her knuckles were white. She didn't ease her grip, though, and stared at the thin bar that was supposed to keep them inside as the car began to move forward.

"Heights," she admitted, her voice barely a squeak.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I'm stupid." She lifted her gaze and saw the treetops grow lower in the sky. In a blink of her eyes they were gone and she could see practically the entire zoo spread out.

"You're as white as a ghost," he sighed. His hand rested over hers and gave a gentle squeeze.

"Ghosts are semitransparent, they can't really be considered white," she rattled off, making sure she was looking straight ahead. "Unless you're talking about the common trope that ghosts are possessed bedsheets…"

Finn's chuckle was almost as warm as his hand. "Will it help if I just tell you to relax?"

"Probably not." She exhaled slowly, unintentionally lowering her gaze in time to see they were passing over a small herd of zebras galloping across grassland. "Oh…"

"There's wildebeest." Finn pointed with his other hand.

"Those are hyenas over there, right?" she asked. She pulled one hand from the bar and motioned to the next exhibit, her knotted stomach easing when she saw several young hyenas tumbling together. "I was so disappointed when I found out they didn't laugh like the ones in _The Lion King_."

She didn't realize she had fully let go of the bar across her lap until she felt long fingers wrap around hers. The clasped hands rested lightly on his thigh, and she glanced at him when his thumb lightly stroked hers. It was a comforting gesture, and the knot loosened, the former tightness replaced by a gentle warmth. He was looking out at the hyenas, but suddenly turned his head in her direction. The corners of his mouth tilted upward and she returned the smile with her own, impulsively giving his hand a squeeze.

"Is that a lion cub?" He looked away and she did as well, spying a young lion getting washed by its mother.

"Kevin mentioned it. He said he saw online that the cub was born last year," she told him, craning slightly to watch the lazing lions as they passed over the exhibit. When she could no longer see it she looked ahead, watching the car ahead of them veer to the right. She drew in a shaky breath, letting her curiosity take over and leaned forward slightly, now wanting to see as much as she possibly could.

Beyond the copse of trees straight ahead she could make out the pavilion they'd walked under to enter the zoo, and beyond that the parking lot. In the distance, the horizon was hazy with heat. The sun was behind them, and the mid-morning sky was a pale blue, streaked with wispy clouds. The paved trails she could see through the trees were more crowded than they had been when they'd arrived. The air was perfumed with animals, dirt, food, and… Cologne. She breathed in the aromas again, aware of the thumb lightly stroking hers as their car swayed and turned.

 _He's just being nice_ , she told herself, closing her eyes when her stomach dipped. The car was going down, and soon they were in the cool shade of towering pine trees. Still the hand held onto hers. She heard whining and squeaking above her head as the car slowed to a stop. The bar was unfastened, and Finn guided her to solid ground. They walked over to Kevin and Sami, and she had to walk faster than usual, because Finn still clutched her hand.

"It's after ten," Kevin said. Violet was aware of his gaze dipping to her and Finn's hands, but his face betrayed no emotion. "We need to leave no later than eleven thirty."

"Did you want to see the aviary?" Sami asked, directing the question to Violet.

"He's scared to death of reptiles behind glass but he'll let a bunch of squawking feather dusters attack him for food." Kevin rolled his eyes, slinging an arm around the other man's shoulders and dragging him close.

"Birds are nicer than reptiles," Sami insisted. "You never hear of birds squeezing the life out a person. Or stinging. Or biting. Or—"

"Birds are horrible," Violet interrupted softly. "My grandmother… She was pecked to death by pigeons."

"Huh?" Sami's eyes widened. "Pecked to death?"

Violet nodded, biting down on her bottom lip. "By pigeons. In Central Park."

"When?" He looked horrified.

"Years ago. I was five. My mother and I were visiting for Christmas…" She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes briefly. "Nana went to the park to feed the pigeons. She did it every morning, of course. She said that routine was one of the main hallmarks of civilization. Even when she was in a wheelchair after she fell down a flight of stairs, she had her nurse take her down to the park every morning. Well…"

"Well?"

"I don't remember all the details. Such a traumatic event, you know? But I remember it being snowy and cold. And I remember my mother saying we'd open presents once Nana got back… It wasn't until lunchtime, when a policeman came… They found her next to a fountain. Pigeons were still pecking at her. Her eyeballs were gone, and they'd ripped out her tongue. They decided she must have been too slow opening her sack of feed."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry—"

Next to her, Finn snorted on a giggle. In the space of a split second, Violet's shoulders began to shake with humor, which she released in a burst of laughter when Sami's horrified expression shifted to disbelief, then irritation.

"I can't believe you fell for it," she cried once he'd begun to laugh as well.

"You're horrible," Sami groaned, pushing away from Kevin, who was cackling. "I believed every word!"

"I'm sorry! I couldn't resist." Violet gasped for breath, unable to recall when she'd last laughed so freely.

"I hate you," he muttered, even as he began to laugh again. "Pecked to death by pigeons…"

"I'm sorry," she repeated, grateful when he shook his head and grinned. Glad he held no hard feelings, she smiled.

"We've got to keep you around," Kevin announced once he'd recovered from his laughter. "C'mon, let's go see the aviary."

"And get pecked to death," Violet added ominously, yelping when Finn tugged on her hand. Looking to him, she felt her cheeks grow warm at the sight of his grin. She was still blown away by how _nice_ the three men were. Kevin had shooed her away from the ticket window, insisting it was his treat. Sami had bought her a cup of coffee when they'd stopped on the way to the zoo. And Finn… Finn had been everything warm and wonderful. She was surprised that he still held onto her hand. She should have pulled away once they'd gotten off the sky ride. But… It felt nice. She enjoyed the disparity of his palm and the back of his hand. His palm was rough, from years of weight training she supposed, whereas the back of his hand was soft. Especially the spot her thumb rested against. His fingers were strong and sure but clutched hers with a tenderness that she wouldn't have expected. And at random intervals his thumb would slide against hers.

The trail leading to the aviary was narrower. She fully expected Finn to release her hand and walk alongside one of his friends, but he didn't. He walked beside her, hand steady and sure over hers. For every two steps he made she had to make five. She had no idea why she counted, but she did, and despite the conversation about pigeons and the probability of a person being pecked to death by them, she counted each one of her steps until they reached the aviary.

Four hundred and eighty-three.

"This is beautiful," she murmured once they'd passed through the entrance. She could just make out the netting stretched between thick posts to keep the birds contained, but most of it was concealed behind thick bushes and trailing vines. All around were trees, flowering shrubs, and trickling water fountains. Six flamingos stood, graceful and elegant, in a small pool to her left, and her breath caught when a brightly-colored parrot flew past to land on the head of a statue. Paths wound through what appeared to be an expansive flower garden.

The parrot squawked as they filed by, and its wings fluttered noisily as it took off for a better location. Finn gave her hand a gentle squeeze, pulling her attention from a bedraggled-looking macaw, and she followed along when he headed down a side path.

"Where are we going?" she asked softly. The peacefulness of chattering birds, splashing fountains, and leaves rustling in the breeze permeated the air and she was reluctant to speak much louder than a soft murmur.

Finn offered a quick grin over his shoulder. "You didn't see the sign?"

"Obviously not," she muttered, glancing back. Unable to see even the hint of a sign, she looked back to him. "I was too busy looking at the birds."

"There's a feeding area back here."

"You're trying to get me pecked to death," she accused, steeling herself against the warmth of his laughter.

"Not pigeons," he promised, giving her and another squeeze.

"…Seagulls?"

"Not those rats with wings, either," he snorted.

"Then what—Oh," she breathed when he led her around a corner. The path opened up to a brick-paved area. Above the chatter of children holding small cups she heard a steady buzzing that reminded her of bees. Gaze moving from the benches and the table of cups that were being sold for a dollar a piece, she saw hummingbirds swarming overhead. They dove randomly, their calls sounding like indignant chirps as they dipped their beaks into the cups.

Her hand was squeezed again before he released it. Still watching the hummingbirds, she was aware of him stepping away. A tiny bird, no larger than her thumb, zipped around her head and hovered directly in front of her face before zooming away, and she stepped over to the nearest stone bench and sat down. Finn joined her a moment later, laughing as one of the birds hovered over the cup in his left hand and began to feed on its contents.

"Nectar?" she asked once he was seated.

"Aye. The man said they're drawn to the scent." He handed over a cup.

"One of my friends in school had a lot of hummingbird feeders in her yard. Her father loved them and every day in the summer he was out there refilling them with nectar and finding spots to put new ones up." Smiling as she recalled lazy summer evenings spent watching the tiny birds flit back and forth, she watched three nearly collide over Finn's cup. Two stormed off, chirping angrily, and the victor perched on Finn's hand briefly to drink. "Do they have hummingbirds in Ireland?"

"Not this many," he answered, holding the cup in both hands. "I've seen a few during the summer. But in Bray, you mainly get seagulls since it's on the coast."

"I never think of Ireland having coasts," she mused, watching a hesitant bird approach the cup she held. "I always picture rolling green hills. And those cliffs."

"Cliffs of Moher." His Irish brogue gave the words more passion than she would have ever managed. "There are tons of rolling green hills, too. But it's not like the green you get here in the States. You've never been?"

There was a winsomeness to his voice, and it occurred to her that he undoubtedly missed Ireland. "Not yet," she answered, watching him watch the birds. "It's on my bucket list."

"Where have you been?"

"Well." She moistened her lips and looked into her cup. The nectar was as clear as water. Thicker, though. "Philadelphia… New York City… And D.C. I don't remember them much, though, because they were stops on our road trip to Atlanta. And I've seen whatever's between Atlanta and Miami."

"You've never been outside the country?" He looked and sounded so surprised.

"Never," she confirmed. "I want to go and see other places, but it just hasn't happened yet. I had this dream of backpacking through Europe after I finished high school, but I didn't have the money to get over there. And now I suppose I have the money to go, but not the time."

"If you really wanted to go…" He cleared his throat, scaring away the birds that hovered in front of them. "Sorry. It's none of my business."

"No, you're right. If I really wanted to go I would find a way." It was nothing she hadn't said to herself over the years. "I got my passport a few years back. I'd saved up enough money for a week overseas. I was going to London first, then travel up through Scotland and hop over to Ireland before coming back. I had the tickets, and hotel reservations. But the night before I was supposed to leave, I… I chickened out."

"Why?"

"I'd never been on a plane. I'd never even set foot in an airport. I just…" She drew in a deep breath, hoping that doing so would rid her chest of the ball of regret that was forming. The regret she'd been feeling for over four years. Recalling the phone call she had made, hoping for comfort and reassurance, she bit down on her tongue. All she'd gotten was affirmation that she was being a fool. "Like I said, I chickened out. I guess it wasn't the right time for me to go. At least, that's what I tell myself."

"The right time will come." He tilted his cup so the birds could get to the last of the nectar. "You just have to be brave enough to seize it."

She had a better chance of being pecked to death by pigeons. Bravery was not a strength she possessed. It never had been and, going by how her life had gone so far, it never would be.

"You two look way too serious," a voice groaned.

Violet looked up to see Kevin crossing towards them. Managing a smile, she looked beyond him to see Sami studying a hummingbird that had perched on his index finger.

Next to her, Finn shifted. "We were just discussing—"

"Death by pigeons," she finished. "We've decided the powers that be are hiding the truth from us."

"It's more likely to happen than being attacked by a shark," Finn confirmed with a serious nod.

"Especially in months with an 'r' in them."

"I thought that had to do with oysters?" Finn turned to face her.

"It's pigeons too. Just like bear attacks only happen on days ending in 'y' during a full moon." Biting her lip to keep from smiling, she failed miserably when he began to grin.

"You're both crazy," Kevin decided with a shake of his head. "We're heading to the gift shop. Once Sami's done being a Disney Princess."

"I can't help it," Sami protested, looking upward when a bird landed on his head. "They're attracted to me."

"Is he going to start singing?" Violet asked Finn in a loud whisper.

"Cover your ears if he does. He'll make your ears bleed."

"Says the man who sounds like a choked chicken," Sami retorted with a snort. The sound sent the birds from him, and he dropped his arms with a sigh.

"I'm empty," Finn announced, turning his cup upside down before crumpling it and throwing it into the nearby trashcan.

"I've still got a little."

"Watch this," Kevin said, stepping forward. He took the cup from her hands then gently grabbed her wrist. "Palm up."

She did so, lightly cupping her hand. He tipped the rest of the nectar into the hollow of her palm, his large hand holding her arm still. Almost instantly a bird landed on her thumb. She could practically feel its rapid pulse. Then it dipped its long beak into her hand and she gasped at the sensation. When barely a drop was left the shimmering bird bobbed its head once before taking off. "That was amazing," she whispered, giving Kevin a warm smile. "Thank you."

"Notice he didn't help us," Sami muttered to Finn.

"Oh, I noticed." Finn crossed his arms over his chest.

Kevin rolled his eyes and pulled Violet to her feet. "That's because you've done this before."

"I didn't do the nectar-in-the-hand thing, though," Finn argued, his scowl and tone ruined by a smirk.

"Neither did I."

"In fact, the last zoo we went to didn't have the nectar thing at all," Finn went on.

"And if it had, you still wouldn't have shown us that trick," Sami added.

Eyes darting from man to man as they continued to complain, Violet cupped a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. She was used to bickering. To snide comments meant to pierce like a sharp knife. But this was different. There was an underlying comradery that showed itself when Finn and Sami moved to stand on either side of Kevin. They both flung their arms around his shoulders and leaned in. Kevin's face wrinkled in disgust over the display of affection, but he was quick to throw his arms around the other men.

"Stop acting jealous," he told them. "I'll do the nectar-in-the-hand thing with you two next time."

"Me first," Sami insisted.

"Why the hell should he do you first?" Finn demanded as they headed towards the aviary's exit.

"Because he loves me more. Duh."

"Oh is that so?"

"Help," Kevin wheezed, ducking and breaking free.

"Tell him you love me more," Sami called, giving Finn a playful shove and darting after Kevin.

"I hate you both – Damn it!" Kevin yelped when Sami leaped onto his back. "Get off!"

"Not until you tell him!"

No longer bothering to hide her laughter, Violet followed the three men out of the aviary. She was aware of curious glances sent in their direction from other guests, but neither of the men seemed to care. When Sami jumped off Kevin's back, nearly knocking the other man over, she snorted so hard on a laugh that her eyes welled. Blinking away the tears of mirth, she paused to use the hand sanitizer attached to a pole.

"They're both insane," Finn chuckled, reaching to get a dollop of hand sanitizer for himself. "One day they're going to get us thrown out of a place like this."

"I doubt it." Rubbing her hands together, Violet winced when she heard a howl that had to have come from Kevin. "Okay, maybe you're right."

They caught up with Sami and Kevin in the gift shop. Kevin was perusing the selection of stuffed animals, and Violet wondered if his kids' rooms were overflowing with plush toys. Sami was flipping through a book. When Finn paused to look over the t-shirts, she moved to the carousel of postcards near the counter. Plucking out one with a hummingbird, she turned it over and saw the photo had been taken in the zoo. She flipped it back over to look at the photo, thinking it looked an awful lot like the one that had drank nectar from her palm. She put the postcard back and reached for one with a tiger, deciding she would get a few to send to a couple of the girls back at the office. Once she'd selected a handful she began to wander around, stopping at the back wall, which was lined with magnets. She looked over them, impulsively grabbing a few. She could use them for office Christmas gifts.

"Ready to go?" Finn asked when she made her way back to the front of the shop. He had gotten one of the small shopping baskets and filled it. Catching her look of surprise, he gave a light shrug. "My niece's birthday is soon. Thought I'd send her a couple things."

It looked like more than a couple of things, but she didn't argue. Moving to stand at the counter, she quirked a brow in surprise when Finn took the postcards and magnets from her hands. "Finn—"

"My treat. I insist," he added before she could argue further.

"But—"

"No buts." He placed his basket and her things on the counter and motioned to the postcards and magnets. "Wrap those separate, will you, lass?"

Violet saw the young blonde at the register practically melt when Finn turned on his smile. She could understand. That smile, joined with his good looks and accent, were indeed melt-worthy. She had a feeling he left a trail of puddled women wherever he went. Not that he seemed to notice. He was keeping up an easy chatter, explaining he was in town on business for the day when she asked how he got from Ireland to their little zoo. Violet perused the postcards again, still drawn to the one of the hummingbird. With a sigh she plucked one out and placed it on the counter just as Finn took the receipt from the cashier.

"I've got it," she insisted when he reached for his wallet. Digging the appropriate change out of her pocket, she thanked the cashier once the postcard was in a small bag.

Outside, she pulled out her phone to snap a photo of the zoo's entrance, lamenting the fact she hadn't taken any pictures while viewing the animals. It didn't matter, she decided, looking on as Sami and Finn took pictures of each other. She followed them to the car, where Kevin was waiting.

"We've got just enough time to get back to the hotel and load up to leave," Sami told Kevin. "Unless we want lunch before we get there."

"What time do you have to be at the arena?" Finn asked, slipping past Kevin and into the back seat.

Violet looked up from her phone, surprised to realize he was asking her. Of course, he would already know what time the other two had to be at the arena. Kevin had explained the call times and all the prep work that went into a show during their interview the day before. "I don't have a set time, but Hunter said that Steve and I could get there as early as one."

"Have you known Steve long?"

"A few years. He's freelance, but we use him quite a bit. His work's appeared in _National Geographic, Rolling Stone_ , _Time_ …" She smiled. "I always tease him that he's too good to work for our site."

"Do we want lunch before we get to the arena?" Kevin asked from the front seat. "SmackDown catering isn't as good as Raw's."

"Could you drop me at the hotel first?" Violet requested, biting her lip when the three men looked to her. "I have to get everything packed up."

Sami assured her they could, and Violet relaxed again, grateful they weren't put out by her request. She sent a text to Steve to let him know she'd be at the hotel soon, jumping slightly when Finn tapped her arm. Brushing off his whispered apology, she looked to him.

"I need your number." He tilted his phone and she gasped when she saw a photo of herself with the giraffes.

"You took pictures," she murmured in awe. Giving him her number, she was certain he would keep it only long enough to send the photos to her. She couldn't imagine any other reason for him to keep it. It wasn't like she'd ever know, she reminded herself, nodding when he said he'd send the pictures a few at a time. She wondered just how many pictures he'd taken.

She looked past Sami's shoulder to see out the front window when Kevin said something about pulling around back. Not surprisingly there were several fans gathered outside the front of the hotel. And she had to ask.

"Do you avoid them?"

Sami turned in his seat, shaking his head. "I don't. If I'm not in a rush I always stop. But right now we have to get everything loaded up to make it to the arena. I'll stop on my way out and sign a few pictures or whatever." He chuckled. "If they want me to, of course."

"False modesty," Kevin snorted.

"Finn always stops," Sami went on, grunting when Kevin stomped the brakes behind the hotel. "Snowing, raining, freezing cold or so hot you sweat standing still, he always stops."

"That's sweet," Violet said without thinking, looking to the man next to her. The tips of his ears had begun to turn pink.

"I remember what it was like to be that fan standing out there," he explained as they climbed out of the car. He rested one hand on the trunk and met her gaze. "All they want is a few seconds of my time, so I try to oblige."

"Because he's sweet," Sami enthused, moving to open the trunk.

"Fuck off, I'm not," Finn groaned.

Taking her bag from Sami when he'd pulled it out, Violet looked up at Finn. "You are, you know," she said softly. The trunk banged shut, and she hesitated while Sami and Kevin headed inside. Looking over her shoulder, she called out another thank-you to them, then turned back to Finn. "I mean, you seem to be. I may be biased, but you've been beyond nice to me this morning. I really appreciate it."

"I'm just me, Violet."

"Well, then, you're sweet," she decided. She felt vindicated when his cheeks began to darken. Her heart gave a weird little lurch in her chest after he pressed his lips together and gave his head a little shake. And, before she could tell herself not to, before she could think of all the reasons why she shouldn't, before the negative voice in the back of her mind could start up, she leaned onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She knew she'd caught him off guard. She felt him tense, heard him inhale sharply, and was positive she'd overstepped a boundary. "Thank you for everything, I'll see you later, bye," she said in a rush as she stepped backwards.

Clutching her bag, painfully aware of the way her hips and thighs jiggled with each step, she ran into the hotel.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Everything going okay, kid?"

Finn smiled at the question from his longtime friend and mentor. Phone tucked to his ear, he greeted the other men in the locker room with nods. His designated space was in the corner and he stopped in front of it. "It's going fine, Matt."

"You were great last night. That was probably one of the best debuts I've ever seen." Matt chuckled. "And I'm not just saying that because I like you."

"Just one of the best?" Finn lifted his suitcase onto the bench and unzipped it. He had barely walked into the building when he'd been told he was needed for promo photographs. He was to get into his gear and be down there in fifteen minutes.

"Easily in the top five," Matt answered. "I see you're on the list for the documentary."

At first Finn was surprised Matt knew about it, then remembered that Violet and Steve would be filming and interviewing at the Performance Center as well. "Yeah, Hunter said it would be a good idea. The lady doing it is getting interviews with a lot of different guys. Some that have been here for a long time, some that have been in for a couple years, and then down at NXT. He said giving my perspective as someone who was going from one to the other would be interesting."

"Hunter's right."

"I met her yesterday," Finn went on, laying his gear out on the bench.

"And?"

"She's good." Without thinking, he rubbed his cheek. "Professional."

"Good to know. She'll be down here tomorrow afternoon." Matt sighed. "And I better get going. I've got a class starting up in a few minutes."

"Good to talk to you," Finn said, meaning every word. One of the toughest things of being away from NXT would be not having Matt close by. "We still on for Thursday?"

"Yep. I'll see you then, kid. And, hey."

"Yeah?"

"Knock 'em dead tonight, too."

Smiling, Finn ended the call and tossed his phone into his suitcase. He paid no attention to the constant chatter of the other guys. He had changed into his gear and was adjusting his kneepads when he caught a familiar name.

"…That Violet chick. Man, I'm not looking forward to seeing her for the next three weeks."

"Shit, I don't mind. She's got nice tits."

"Good tits on a fat bitch don't count."

One foot propped on the bench, Finn went still at the caustic words, and flinched at the answering laughs. He pulled on his t-shirt, pressing his lips together as he tried to figure out who had made the statement. Gaze moving around the room, he saw the man practically holding court in the opposite corner.

"Hey, Bálor, you had an interview with her yesterday right?" Dolph Ziggler called.

Finn gave his kneepad another tug and looked over as though he'd just noticed the other men. "Who?"

"The website chick. Violet?" Dolph snapped the gum in his mouth loudly.

"Yeah." He pushed his suitcase into his locker space and grabbed his jacket.

"What do you think? You're a former model and all." Dolph grinned. "Does she weigh more or less than you?"

"Why does that matter?" Finn asked. To his surprise, his voice was even, despite the irritation mounting within him.

"Oh come on." This from Roman Reigns, who was sitting on the bench. "She's huge. She probably weighs as much as me."

"Again, why's that matter?" Finn demanded, recognizing the ire in his tone when Dolph's eyes widened. Drawing in a breath, he released it slowly. It was only his second day. Far too soon to potentially cause trouble.

Dolph's grin, which had started to fade, returned with a vengeance. "Are you a chubby chaser, Bálor?"

"A what?"

"Do you get off on fat chicks?"

"Christ," Finn hissed. Swallowing his anger, he gave a derisive shake of his head. No matter what he said, his words would be twisted. He refused to stoop to their level, though, and headed for the door. Stopping when it opened and he saw Sami, he managed a smile.

"Where's the fire?" Sami chuckled, stepping to the side.

"Promo photos." Finn felt the muscle in his jaw twitch as the men in the corner began to laugh again.

"Let me park my stuff and I'll walk down with you. I've got nothing to do just yet." Sami glanced around, then pushed his suitcase towards the nearest locker. Once in the hallway, he nudged the cap on his head back and cleared his throat. "What happened?"

"Just the guys being… Guys." Finn chuckled mirthlessly. "Stereotypical locker room bullshit."

"They threaten to dunk your head in the toilet again?" Sami guessed.

Finn groaned, thinking of the previous day. He had been warned it would happen, but the six men had taken him by surprise and carried him off to the bathroom immediately after his match. He'd taken it as good naturedly as possible – they'd dunked his head in a fucking _toilet_ – but he'd hated every second. After he'd showered and had heard tales of other, more disgusting things done to new guys, he considered himself lucky that the toilet was the worst they'd done to him.

"No," he answered finally. Stopping when they reached the end of the hallway, he looked to the signs taped on the walls and turned in what he hoped was the right direction. Aware that Sami was waiting for a more elaborate answer, he rubbed his chin. "They were talking about Vi… Miss Lovell."

"Violet? What could they… Oh." Without looking, Finn knew that Sami was frowning. "Do I want to know what they were saying?"

"Probably not," Finn muttered.

"You get… Well, you don't get used to it. But after a few weeks you'll learn to ignore ninety-nine percent of the crap they say."

"I know." He'd dealt with it for years. The atmosphere of each locker room was different, yet always the same. And he knew from experience that it did get easier to ignore what he didn't want to hear. He wondered how long it would take him to get over the awkwardness he felt. Despite being older than more than a few of the men, he was the new blood. In two years of NXT he'd never had trouble fitting in, but the glimpses he'd seen so far in the main roster only cemented the warnings he had heard. It was a completely different world compared to what he'd known in Orlando.

They rounded a corner and Finn's steps faltered when he saw Violet. She was leaning against one of the equipment crates, a bright smile on her face as she talked with Sasha. He hadn't laid eyes on her since she'd bolted from him at the hotel, and his gaze instantly settled on her lips. Pressing his own lips together as he recalled her chaste kiss, he felt his cheeks warm. Next to him, Sami cleared his throat, and his cheeks began to burn.

"What now?" Sami asked, stopping next to him.

"Nothing." He cleared his throat. He tried to look away from Violet, but her head turned and her eyes met his briefly. He saw her cheeks start to color before she ducked her head. Releasing a sigh, he finally moved his gaze to Sami. "Why'd you stop?"

Sami's eyebrows lifted. His eyes darted from Finn's face to Sasha and Violet before darting back, and his lips twisted into a confused smile. "Really?"

Fuck. He almost blurted the word out but refrained. Briefly panicked, he searched for the proper words to say, not sure whether or not he liked the look of realization that was taking hold on his friend's face. And, finding no better alternative, he muttered, "Ah, fuck."

"Sami! Finn! I want your opinion on something," Sasha called, having caught sight of them.

Sami immediately headed over to the two women. Left with no other alternative, Finn followed. A bit slower, perhaps, but he could use the fact he was putting his jacket on as an excuse. Relieved to have something to do with his hands, he stuffed them into the pockets, confused when he felt the crinkle of paper in one. He ignored it though, stopping when he reached Sasha's side.

"Violet is thinking of changing her hair color," Sasha announced, flipping a lock of her own bright pink hair over her shoulder. "I'm trying to talk her into going for something bold, like a deep red. What do you think?"

"Red like mine?" Sami asked, stroking his beard as he moved to stand next to Violet.

"I said red, not ginger," Sasha informed with a playful roll of her eyes. "Like Eva Marie's, but not so vibrant."

Finn tried to imagine Violet with deep red hair. He began to shake his head before he could come up with a different color. To his relief, he saw Sami shaking his head as well. Focusing on Violet, he took in her freckled cheeks. He wondered if she knew there was one right next to her nose that was in the shape of a heart.

"She's too pale to go that bold," Sami offered.

"Thank you," Violet sighed.

"How about blonde?" Sasha suggested, groaning when both men began to shake their heads again. "Black?"

"What's wrong with the color it is now?" Finn asked, eyes straying to the lock that rested against Violet's cheek. Dark brown, reminiscent of a perfectly brewed cup of strong tea. He remembered how it shined in the sunlight.

"Nothing, really, I guess." Violet toyed with the curl before tucking it behind her ear.

"The better question is why ask our opinion?" Sami chuckled.

"Well, even though you're just _men_ , you do occasionally have opinions that matter," Sasha replied with a toss of her head, laughing when Finn snorted. "But seriously, Violet, if you want to change the color, go for it. Start with a few shades lighter so it won't be too drastic. Or maybe get highlights."

"I'll see. I'm not set on doing it yet."

"Don't go into any salons with her. She'll have you coming out with neon orange hair if you're not careful," Sami warned.

Finn tried to picture Violet with orange hair and almost grimaced.

"Okay, you can go now." Sasha snapped her fingers when Sami and Finn didn't immediately move. "You were no help, so go."

"Rude," Finn scoffed, propping his elbow on her shoulder.

"Jerk," she shot back, ducking away. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Finn pretended to consider the question, tilting his head to catch a glimpse of Violet's watch. "I don't… Not for another five minutes."

"You really want to interview him again?" Sasha asked Violet, whose eyes widened at the question. "Because he can be a real brat."

"He was nice to me," Violet defended, biting her lip.

"Oh my god. I can't believe you." Sasha heaved a sigh and made a show of looking at her wrist. "Would you look at the time. I need to go."

Sami blinked slowly when she made no move to leave. "You need to go?"

"Yes. I have to get out to the ring." Sasha looked from Sami to Violet to Finn. She held Finn's gaze for several seconds, then looked pointedly at Sami. "Can you come out for a few? I wanted your input."

"On what?"

"On a move."

"…What move?"

Sasha practically glared at him. "Does it matter which move it is? I would like your input."

Finn bit down on the tip of his tongue as Sami's expression switched from confusing to understanding. Holding back a laugh, he watched the two head off, calling out that he would see them later. He wasn't sure how Sasha had tuned into the fact that he'd wanted a moment alone with Violet, but he was grateful for her perception. Because he hadn't realized it himself until she'd begun to pester Sami. Drawing in a breath, he turned to face Violet. "You want to interview me again?"

"Yes. Remember, there were some things we didn't cover." Her hand was at the base of her throat, and he watched her fingers fiddle with the heart-shaped locket hanging from the thin chain. She must have followed his gaze, for her hand covered the locket and her lips pulled into a warm smile of remembrance. "It was a gift. My friend in high school gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. Her dad owned a jewelry store."

"Do you keep a picture in it?" he asked. He knew his mother owned several lockets. All had photos in them. Of his grandparents, of his father, of himself and his siblings.

"I never had one important enough to put in it," she murmured.

"My mum once told my sister that she couldn't put a picture in a locket unless she was sure it was someone she would love forever," he recalled suddenly, smiling at the memory. His sister had been about to put in a picture of some pop star she'd clipped from a magazine into her locket, much to his and his brothers' amusement. "Because the locket is next to the heartbeat."

"Your mother sounds like a very smart woman."

"That she is."

"Didn't you tell Sasha you have to be somewhere?"

"Just down the hall. Promo photos," he added. "For the match at SummerSlam."

"Then I'll let you go. I have to go get set up for interviews." She straightened. Her mouth worked for a few brief seconds, as though she wanted to say something. Or thought she wanted to say something. Finally, she smiled. "I'll see you around, Finn."

She didn't move right away. He opened his mouth to assure her that, yes, she'd see him later. But when she lifted her head her glasses slid down and he remained silent. Looking into her unshielded eyes, he was reminded of the cornflowers his mother loved so much. He was struck by a sudden yearning to stay where he was and look in her eyes for as long as possible. To talk to her as long as possible. To just stand with her in the cluttered hallway, because her presence was surprisingly calming. His gaze dropped to her lips, and he felt his cheeks start to redden.

Maybe she wasn't so calming after all. He forced himself to not think of the little kiss, which she'd probably meant as a sign of appreciation and friendship. She probably hadn't intended it as some sort of romantic indication. And he couldn't bring himself to ask. Because he might not like the answer. Slowly lifting his eyes to hers again, he smiled and raised one hand in a quick, little wave.

"I'll see you later," he said, " _A thaisce_."

The term of endearment rolled out of his mouth before he could stop it, but he found a small bit of delight in the way her eyes widened. He could tell she didn't know what it meant and, pleased, he watched her lips move as she murmured words of goodbye. Watching her walk in the opposite direction he needed to go in, he sighed. She glanced back at him, cheeks coloring when she saw him watching, and he didn't fight the sudden urge to grin as he turned to get to work.

* * *

 _Did you mean…_

Violet heaved a sigh of frustration and closed her internet browser before gently lowering the lid of her laptop. She had searched for the word off and on all afternoon and was at the point of giving up. Searching 'atashka' invariably sent her to baby name sites, which all told her the same thing: It was a Russian name. Which made no sense. Why would Finn call her that? A few times she had decided she was spelling it wrong, but still got the same results. She sighed again and pushed the laptop away then looked at her watch.

"Are you going to get fan comments tonight?" Steve asked. He sat on the other side of the small room they had been given for the evening. When she looked up, Violet saw he was transferring pictures to his laptop.

"I figured I'd get them at the house shows this weekend. We've got permission to follow a couple guys along to signings right before SummerSlam, so I'll want to get some then, too." Her boss had told her he wanted three hours on the final documentary, broken into three parts to be posted over a month's time. Three weeks' worth of time, compacted into just a few short hours. She hoped she could do it.

Scratch that. She _knew_ she could do it. She just wasn't so certain she'd put out three interesting hours. Her position was precarious. On one hand, she wanted to appeal to die-hard wrestling fans – the one that posted heartily on social media and watched as much of the product as they could – as well as the casual fans. The ones that attended the occasional show in their area and watched at least a couple hours per week. On the other hand, she wanted to appeal to people who weren't fans. People who eschewed professional wrestling as a joke. Fake. A soap opera geared towards men. She desperately wanted to open at least one person's eyes to the fact that it was something that could appeal to nearly everyone.

"While these transfer I'm going to the john. You need a drink or anything?" Steve stood.

"From the toilet?" she snorted.

"Hey, water's water." He chuckled as he crossed to the door. "Do you?"

"If they still have some of the iced coffee they had earlier… Otherwise just get me a Pepsi? Please," she added.

"Iced coffee or Pepsi. I'll be back later." He pushed the door open.

Violet heard the door connect with a body and winced at the sound of a muttered curse. Half-rising out of her chair, she fully stood when she saw the man Steve had pummeled.

"No, no, I'm fine," he insisted when Steve apologized. Hand over his nose, he made a show of avoiding the door as he entered the room. The man best known to wrestling fans as Triple H lowered his hand to show his grin. "It's not the first door that's hit my nose, and it sure as hell won't be the last."

"Sorry," Steve said again. He hesitated halfway out the door.

"Go on," Hunter told him with a chuckle. "I just need to chat with Miss Lovell."

With a nod, Steve left. The door swung shut behind him and Violet stared up at Hunter, hoping she hadn't overstepped bounds. Insulted someone. Gone where she shouldn't. Asked the wrong questions. He dragged a chair away from the wall and sat, the change in his height reminding her that she should sit, too. She did so, hating that she was scared to death but unable to change the fact. The man had granted permission for her to be backstage, for her to conduct interviews and tag along here and there. He'd also granted access to the Performance Center, which she knew was practically his child.

"You can relax, Miss Lovell, I'm not here to yell at you."

"Thank god," she murmured. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing so far. I asked the guys you talked to yesterday how the interviews went. You got good reviews."

"That's good to hear. I don't want to step on any toes."

He smiled. "Everyone's being nice to you, aren't they?"

"Of course they are." Instantly she thought of Finn. And Kevin and Sami. All three of them had gone beyond just mere politeness. Hoping her cheeks weren't red as beets, but already feeling the heat creep over them, she fiddled with one of the bracelets on her left wrist. "No one's cursed me out because I asked for fifteen minute of their time."

He chuckled. "When you're in Orlando tomorrow I'm going to take an hour of your time to go over what you've gotten."

Nodding, she wondered if she should tell him she'd gotten more than an hour of raw footage. Part of the agreement was that WWE – which she had a feeling meant Vince McMahon – had the final say in what was allowed in the documentary. "I'll have it all ready for you."

"We'll go over that first thing, then you can dive in and get to know everyone down at the PC."

"Sounds good to me. I'm planning on getting there about nine. Steve wants to do some shots of the different areas when they're empty."

Hunter nodded as she spoke. Lightly slapping his knees, he stood. "I've got to get going. Remember, if you need anything, be sure and let me or my assistant know."

"I have the numbers," she promised, rising to her feet. "Thanks again. For everything."

She watched him leave then returned to her chair. Lightly drumming her fingers against the table where she'd set up her laptop, she hesitated briefly before reaching for her phone. As soon as her fingers touched it, it vibrated with a message. She bit her lip, not recognizing the number, and wondered who was asking if she had a few minutes free. It wasn't until she'd unlocked the device to tap out a reply that she grasped it was Finn. Marveling that he'd kept her number, she replied that she was indeed free then waited to see that it was delivered, her head jerking up when there was a knock on the door.

It opened slightly before she could get to her feet, and she was surprised when Finn leaned in. His lips parted to speak, then he held up a finger to indicate she had to wait a moment. She glimpsed him lifting his phone as he leaned back, and she saw his foot holding the door open. A snort of laughter echoed in the hallway as he pushed the door open further and stepped inside.

"Not busy?" he asked.

"Steve and I just finished setting up for the interviews," she explained, gesturing to the camera on its tripod. She watched him glance around the room and cleared her throat. "He's gone for drinks."

"They didn't give you an assistant to run around for the two of you?

"Please, I'm not important enough for an assistant. I'm lucky I got someone to work the camera." She'd been at the bottom of the proverbial totem pole for so long she doubted she'd ever rise in the higher-ups' esteem. She wasn't rated highly. She didn't blog and tweet and post snaps pertaining to fashion or celebrity gossip. She'd never done series on healthcare and the nation's need for a universal system that benefitted everyone. She only posted blogs and the occasional video review about wrestling. True, some of her articles had made the list of most read articles in a week, but it wasn't as though anyone within CultureFeed's inner workings actually gave a damn. Her small but faithful audience had a definite niche. In fact, had WWE not contacted her boss about the documentary, she doubted she would be standing in a room backstage at a SmackDown taping.

Finn tilted his head. "Don't sell yourself short, lass."

With a scoff, Violet held one hand just above her head then lifted it to his approximate height to show the difference. "I am short," she reminded.

He stepped forward so the door could close all the way. Looking around, as though to make absolutely sure they were alone, he leaned forward. When he spoke, his voice was a divulging whisper. "Just between you and me, I'm shorter than they say."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm not really five-eleven."

"What are you?"

"Off the record," he insisted, still whispering.

"Off the record," she promised.

"I'm… Five-ten and three-quarters."

Her eyes were rolling before she could stop them. Shaking her head, she groaned. "A whole one-quarter of an inch? I'm shocked."

"I'm sorry that I had to ruin your illusions," he sighed. "But I needed to tell the truth. Just once."

"Of course." She bit back the urge to laugh. "Don't worry, Finn. Your secret is safe with me."

"Thank god." He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, which had the NXT logo embroidered over the left breast. "Since you're not busy, I had a thought."

"Oh?" she prompted, losing her inner battle and glancing down the length of his body. He'd changed out of his gear. Or perhaps he'd just thrown the loose workout pants over it. Spying the TapOut logo on his left thigh, she absurdly wondered if everyone in the company had gotten a selection of the fitness wear. All of the wrestlers she'd encountered that day had been wearing something from the company.

"You've been a fan for a while, right?" he was asking, and she quickly nodded, so he wouldn't think she wasn't listening. She was, but she was slightly distracted by the way his Bálor Club t-shirt stretched across his chest. "Have you ever been in a ring?"

"A wrestling ring?" she blurted, then wrinkled her nose. What other kind of ring could he mean? "No, I haven't."

His smile was infectious and endearing. "Time to remedy that, then, isn't it?"

"Wait, what?"

"I'm going down to go through some paces. You're welcome to come along."

"Really? In the ring?"

"You don't have to do any moves. I just thought—" He stopped and looked over his shoulder when the door opened. "Steve," he greeted enthusiastically.

Steve returned the greeting, stepping around him. "No iced coffee," he said to Violet, handing over Styrofoam cup. The can of Pepsi stacked atop it wobbled precariously, but she managed to save it from falling and murmured her thanks, catching the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee coming from the cup in his other hand. "Don't let me interrupt," he told Finn, sending Violet a questioning glance as he slipped by her to sit in his chair.

"I was just inviting her to come out to the ring for a bit," Finn explained. There were two beats of silence, then he spoke again. "You're welcome to come out too, if you'd like."

"I'll have to take a rain check." Steve indicated his laptop. "Got photos from yesterday to edit."

"Hunter wants all the raw footage," Violet recalled suddenly. "I should—"

"Go on, I'll get it together." He was already reaching for the case with the memory cards. "I've got to wait for these to finish transferring anyway."

"Use my laptop," she offered. She set her cup down and pried off the lid. Telling him she'd transferred the video files to it already, she opened the can and began to pour the soda into the cup. "They're on the desktop."

"Did you back—"

"This morning. Safe and sound on the cloud." Startled when a hand reached around her to take the empty can, she glanced back to smile at Finn, deciding it best to ignore the way her stomach trembled. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead, kid." He reached for one of his smaller still cameras and held it in her direction. "Grab a few shots of the ring?"

"You're trusting me with Laurie?" Violet murmured in awe, taking the camera and tucking it close to her chest. Steve was beyond attached to all of his cameras. He regularly dismantled them and lovingly cleaned them. And he had named each one after an important woman in his life. The camera she held had been named after his high school sweetheart.

"You've used her before." He took a sip of his coffee. "Just don't drop her. Or throw her. And—"

"I'll treat her as though she were my own newborn baby," she promised with a grin while looping the strap over hr shoulder. "Thanks."

She reached for her drink, surprised to see the lid had been put on and a straw ready. Picking it up, she noticed Finn was idly twisting the straw paper around his index finger. She followed him out, taking a fortifying sip of the ice-cold soda with a small sigh.

"Laurie?" Finn inquired after a moment.

With a nod, she explained how Steve named his cameras. Finn seemed to find it humorous, chuckling as she rattled off the names she knew. "I don't know what he's going to name the next one," she finished. "He's out of ex-wives and former girlfriends."

"I'm sure he'll come up with something." He pulled back a curtain shielding a doorway and peered inside before motioning for her to go through.

"Gorilla position?" she asked softly once they'd both stepped inside. Looking around, she took in the small bank of monitors with headsets, which were being hooked up by a crewmember. Her gaze traveled around the room and landed on a tower of clear plastic drawers.

"Last minute things," Finn explained, leading her over and opening one. Inside was one of the championship belts. "For house shows they use a replica belt. These are the real ones. And other stuff."

"May I?" she inquired, biting her lip when he nodded and closed the drawer. She opened the one beneath it, momentarily dazzled as the light hit the gems on the belt inside. "Oh…"

"You're allowed to touch it," he whispered.

"I wouldn't dare," she whispered back.

"You sure?"

"Just seeing it is amazing enough."

"Well then." He slowly closed the drawer then opened another, drawing out the white leather belt. "You have to touch this one."

"Good god," she muttered when he placed the women's title in her free hand. It was heavier than she would have thought, and she was grateful when he took her cup so she could use both hands. "You know, when they debuted this at WrestleMania I thought it was hideous. I didn't like the Diva's belt, but I was used to the silver and pink. So when I first saw this I wasn't immediately drawn into it, you know? But it grew on me. I like that it mirrors the big belt. It looks like an actual championship belt, not some girly little thing."

She reverently brushed her fingertips over the large bejeweled 'W' in the center before placing it back in the drawer. Clearing her throat, she looked at the other drawers, unable to decipher the shorthand used on the labels.

"Props," he explained, opening a random drawer so she could see inside. Then, pushing it closed, he gently caught her elbow and steered her to the next curtain. "And then there's this."

"What are you thinking when you're standing here, waiting for your music?"

"Last night I was still a bundle of nerves." He chuckled. Then, looking at the curtain, he grew serious. "But I'm usually thinking about the crowd. When you're standing here, and the audience is just outside, you can feel them. You can feel their excitement. You can hear them chanting or cheering or whatever they're doing, and… It's magical. I can't think of how else to describe it. It gives me that final push into the zone I need to be in. Then the music hits and…"

He ducked through the curtain, guiding her with him. For a brief moment they were in complete darkness, and when she blinked they were walking out onto the stage. She looked above, to the large panels showing test patterns, and couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel to see her own name on the screen.

"And this is it," he finished, releasing her elbow. Still holding her cup, he extended his arms to indicate the arena. "Lights and music and fans and that surge of adrenaline."

The ring seemed to be miles away. Finn seemed to be in no hurry walking down the ramp, and Violet focused on not tripping over wires that were littering the way. The barricade was up, and several people were setting up seats on the floor. Finn pointed out the lights overhead, then the cameras. When they reached the ring, he brushed his fingers over the apron almost lovingly.

"You sorry sonofabitch, you couldn't warn somebody?!"

Violet jerked in surprise at the words, shouted in a Southern twang. Turning as Finn began to laugh, she blinked in awe upon seeing Karl Anderson making his way down the ramp. He glanced at her and gave a quick, acknowledging nod, then met Finn in a bear hug. She sensed she was intruding on a private moment and wandered away, catching snippets of their conversation as she walked around the ring. Smiling as Karl complained to Finn because he hadn't known about Finn's debut the night before, she brushed her fingers over the light blue canvas. She looked up when she heard her name, and felt her cheeks flush with warmth at the sight of Finn waving her over. Drawing in a deep breath, she headed towards him.

"This is Violet Lovell," he said as she approached. "She's doing that documentary they've been talking about. Violet, this is my old friend Karl Anderson."

"Hi," Karl greeted, catching her hand for a quick, firm shake. "Sorry, but I haven't been paying attention. What's the documentary about?"

"Well…" Violet took a sip of her drink before telling the purpose of her extended stay with the company. He nodded as she spoke, and it wasn't until she finished that she realized Finn had stepped away. She and Karl had moved to lean against the ring apron, and over his shoulder she saw Finn bounding up the steps.

"It sounds pretty cool," Karl enthused. "You're a fan?"

"I have been for years. And just the past twenty-four hours have been enough for me to see that there are so many things I don't know about all of this," she said, gesturing to the arena. "On one hand I wish I could learn everything, every little detail, but on the other…"

"I get it. You want a little mystery so you don't lose the magic." He nodded again, smiling this time. "Like Santa and the Easter Bunny."

"That's it exactly." She didn't feel the need to tell him that she hadn't believed in the magic of Santa Claus for very long. Having learned long ago how to swallow and hide the sadness, she lifted her drink for another sip, eyes widening when Karl slapped the canvas.

"Alright, climb on in," he said. He took the cup from her and, looking around, finally set it on the floor.

"But – I don't want to get in trouble."

"Come on." Finn had slid between the ropes and now squatted down. "I checked with Hunter. It's fine."

Violet watched him push himself to his full height and back away from the ropes in a light jog. His feet barely made a sound on the canvas, but she could see the way it bounced beneath him. He motioned for her to hurry along and with a sigh she slipped the camera strap from her shoulder, carefully resting Steve's beloved device on the floor before going up the steps. Karl, she noticed, had easily jumped up onto the apron, and was sitting on the middle rope. Recognizing the gesture, she thanked him and stepped over, releasing a soft sigh once she stood in the ring.

"Yep, definitely her first time," Karl announced after a moment. "And she's definitely a fan."

Blinking, she saw him nudge Finn. Both men chuckled, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. She couldn't think of what to say. There was something awe-inspiring about being in the ring. The lights above were bright and she could feel their heat as she gazed out at the empty seats. She could hardly imagine how it would feel to look out and see them filled. Turning so she could see all angles, she finally faced the two men and moistened her lips. "How can you tell?"

"Reverence," Finn explained, resting his hands on his hips. "You know the stories that have been told in this ring. Or ones just like it."

She nodded, glad neither of them were laughing at her for her amazement. She was keenly aware of the battles she'd watched. The astonishing victories. The heartbreaking defeats. Her childhood, teenage years, and now adulthood had centered around the action that took place in this space. She would have been lying if she said she wasn't affected.

"I gotta go," Karl said. His fist met Finn's briefly, then he nodded at Violet. "See you around, ma'am."

Ma'am. She had a sudden urge to say 'fiddle-dee-dee'.

"I like him," she murmured once he was headed up the ramp.

"Is it the accent? Because my sister was half in love with him two minutes after meeting him."

"Was it his picture she was going to put in her locket?" Violet asked with a grin, laughing when he groaned. "But yes, the accent probably has a little to do with it. But he's just a nice guy. And a gentleman."

"You like accents, then?"

Surely she just imagined that his brogue was a little more pronounced. And his voice was a little deeper. Pressing her lips together briefly, she nodded. "I tend to like accents from farther away than Carolina, though."

"…Texas?"

"No, a little further."

"Mexico?"

"No…" God, was he going to make her say it? Was he purposely tormenting her? Was he just teasing her? Or was he, miracle of miracles, enjoying the banter? "From overseas."

"Oh, that's a grand hint." He rubbed his chin, eyes following her as she walked to the corner. "Russia?"

"Not quite that far away," she laughed.

"Germany? Italy? Spain? Greece? Switzerland?" With each guess, he stepped towards her.

"Getting warmer."

"Norway."

"A little west."

"France."

"North," she prodded.

"England."

"West again."

"Wales."

"Oh, so close," she sighed. Marveling that she had kept it up for so long, she wondered where her ability to tease had come from. She'd never been able to do it before. Maybe she had, she thought, swallowing when he stopped directly in front of her. Maybe she'd never really wanted to, though.

"Was that my last guess?" he asked softly, resting his hands on the top ropes.

"I suppose I can allow one more," she murmured. Heart pounding so furiously she was convinced he could hear it, she looked up at his face.

"Over the Cardigan Bay, across the Irish Sea, to the shores of Ireland."

She couldn't remember just where the Cardigan Bay was, but she assumed it was in the vicinity of Wales. She nodded, lips pulling into a small smile. "That would be the place."

"And why do you like accents from that little corner of the world, _a thaisce_?"

Christ on a cracker, she could feel his breath. He'd boxed her in and she was certain she felt her knees weaken when he said that word again. She hoped it meant something nice. Lips parting to answer his question, she froze. She couldn't remember the question. "I… I'm not sure," she whispered. His lips twitched, somehow causing her brain to clear, and she tried to ignore the faint scent of his cologne. "I suppose it's the resilient aspect."

"Resilient," he repeated.

"Well, as I'm sure you know, that little corner of the world has seen more than its share of hard times over the centuries. And yet it always fights back, doesn't it? It manages to keep its smile and rebuilds itself from the ground up. It's a tough little corner of the world. And that's reflected in the accent."

"And you like it because of that?"

"That's the main reason, yes."

"What about the others?"

Staring at his lips, she blanked. "Other what?"

"Reasons." His tongue darted over his lips, surely just to torment her further. "For liking the Irish accent."

She was saved from answering by a shout from the ramp. With a muttered curse, Finn stepped away. Violet took the opportunity to move out of the corner. Her stomach dipped as Sami hopped up onto the apron and climbed between the ropes. When he saw her, he grinned.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" He was looking to Finn, who'd moved to the opposite corner and begun to stretch.

"Not at all," Violet promised. Glancing at the ropes, she motioned. "Could you…"

"Yeah, sure." He sat on the middle rope as Karl had, one hand reaching to steady her.

She waited until both feet were safely on the floor before speaking again. "Thanks. I'm just going to grab a few shots of the ring. I won't get in the way."

"No problem."

Camera in hand, she sat on the steel steps for a moment to fiddle with the controls. As she did so, she couldn't help but catch unintelligible whispers from the two men in the ring. She refrained from looking back. She was there to do a job. No matter how intriguing the man was, no matter how alluring his accent, she couldn't be distracted. Not anymore.

Even if he was the first man who'd ever looked at her like she was someone worth actually looking at. Even if he was the first man who'd never made her feel as though she were an inconvenience. A chore. Less than worthy of his time.

Besides, in three weeks she would be gone. And there was no end of prettier, more talented women waiting for his attention. Women that were actually worth his second looks. And his time.

 **A/N: A thaisce (** _ **a tash-ka**_ **– my darling/my treasure)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Prayer circle for all my fellow Bálor fans! :( And a thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. Tiny warning: Long chapter is long. :)**

Chapter Four

"Coming," Finn called, pausing to muffle a yawn against his shoulder before glancing through the peephole. Surprised to see the man waiting outside, he turned the lock and opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

Sami blinked, then grinned while stepping into the apartment. "Oh, hey Sami, good to see you!" he enthused sarcastically. "Is your shoulder alright after that bad landing last night? I know you said it was okay but you can be a lying bastard when you're in pain. C'mon in. Want a cup of tea?"

Snorting on a laugh, Finn shut the door and turned to clap Sami on the back. "I just didn't expect to see you. You want a cup?"

"Don't put yourself out on my account," Sami demurred, even as he glanced to the kettle that Finn kept on the stove. "But yeah, I could do with one."

"And the shoulder's alright?" Finn asked, stepping over to turn the stove on. A cup of tea was just the thing he needed. It would help him refocus. He'd been distracted ever since getting home. Even his trusty Lego hadn't been able to keep him from looking at his watch or his phone. Not sure why he was so inattentive, he was privately glad for Sami's sudden arrival.

"It's fine. I went to the PC this afternoon and got a good stretch. Sampson told me to ice it tonight." Sami paused to glance at the Batmobile in progress on the table before picking up the booklet to flip through the instructions. "But it's fine."

Nodding, Finn leaned to get a mug from the cabinet. "Good. Because—"

"Oh, and I saw Violet."

The mug slipped from his grasp and he watched in horror as it bounced off the counter and fell to the floor. It skidded, banged against his bare foot, then clattered under the edge of the counter. "Fuck," Finn muttered, bending to retrieve it as a chuckle sounded behind him. "Where did you see her?"

"At the PC. She was there with… What's his name? Steve? They were getting footage."

"Yeah, Steve." Tossing the mug into the sink, he groaned when he heard the unmistakable sounds of it breaking.

"You alright?" Sami's voice sounded concerned, but when Finn turned to face him, he was grinning.

"I'm fine," he insisted, dragging a hand over his face. "I guess I'm keyed up over the debut and now the title match and…"

"And you're full of it," Sami finished. Still flipping through the booklet, he sat at the table and looked from the sorted piles of blocks to Finn. "How's that tea coming?"

"Why the hell do I put up with you?" Finn muttered, turning to retrieve another mug. He dropped a bag in it then leaned against the counter. Lightly drumming his fingers as he waited for the water to boil, he released a sigh and got a mug for himself. "Did you talk to her?"

"Yep. She's cool. Did you know she likes horror movies?"

"No…" The water was taking forever. "How did you find that out?"

"She came into the trainer's room while I was icing my shoulder. We got to talking about random stuff."

Listening to his friend turn the pages of the booklet with excruciating carelessness, Finn was grateful when the kettle released a high-pitched whistle. He busied himself with making the tea, grabbing the carton of milk from the fridge to carry to the table with the mugs. Sensing that there was more information Sami wanted to divulge, he sat down and waited, watching the steam curl through the air above the mug in front of him.

Sami set the booklet aside and reached for the milk. Slowly, almost painstakingly so, he poured some into his tea, the gave it a swirl to mix before taking a sip. "She doesn't like beer."

Finn blinked at that nugget of knowledge, wondering just how long Sami and Violet had talked about random things. "Why's that?"

"She didn't go into detail, but I got the feeling one of her parents was an alcoholic." Sami took another sip of tea. "It wasn't so much what she said but how she said it. We got on the subject when a couple of the guys asked me to hit the bar with them tonight. She got invited, too, but she said bars aren't her thing."

"And that means she doesn't like beer?" Finn asked in confusion, taking the milk and splashing some into his mug. "Lots of people don't like going to bars."

"I know that." Sami looked almost offended. "I asked if she preferred beer or mixed drinks. She said she'd never tasted beer and never would. And then she said she'd only had one mixed drink but it wasn't good."

He wanted to ask how Sami could get her to say so much about herself, but he already knew. The man was uncommonly easy to talk to. He was talkative as well, which only made others feel more at ease. More than once Finn had thought his friend should have been an interrogator with the police. He would have no trouble getting criminals to spill their darkest secrets.

"You like her, don't you?"

He almost gave a non-answer. It would be easy to insist that, of course, he liked her. She was great fun and knowledgeable about their profession. Naturally, he liked her. But he knew that Sami wasn't talking about platonic feelings. So, rubbing his cheek and remembering the way her eyes had looked almost purple when they'd stood in the corner of the ring, he drew in a calming breath as Sami got to his feet and carried the milk back to the fridge.

"Well?" Sami asked.

"Yes," Finn muttered.

"Ha! I knew it!"

Finn turned his head just in time to catch him in the middle of a celebratory dance. Brow furrowing, he wondered if his admission would be his downfall. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Texting Kev." Sami barely glanced up from his phone as he returned to the table.

"He'll kill you for interrupting his family time," Finn pointed out, finally lifting his mug for a sip.

"Maybe, but he said you'd never admit to liking her. At least, not so soon." Sami grinned and reached for his mug.

"Christ," Finn hissed, knowing now that he should have kept his mouth shut. "Would you stop? We're not in high school."

"So you don't want to sit next to her at the pep rally?"

"Fuck off," Finn groaned, shoulders shaking with quelled amusement.

"Just so you know, she's not doing anything tonight." Sami passed on the knowledge while raising his mug in silent toast.

"How long did you talk to her?"

"About half an hour." He smacked his lips together. "This is really good tea."

"And you found out that she likes horror movies, doesn't like beer, and isn't doing anything?" Finn shook his head in amazement. Then, clearing his throat, he waited a moment while Sami read something on his phone. He judged from the quick snort that Kevin had sent a less than enthusiastic reply to his text. "…What else did you find out about her?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Whatever," Finn answered with a shrug. "Anything." He pressed his lips together, gaze returning to the curling steam. "Everything."

"I could be a jerk and tell you to find it out on your own." Sami sighed. "But I love you so I'll tell you what I know."

Relieved, Finn cupped both hands around the mug. "Horror movies. No beer."

"She doesn't know anyone in the area. Steve has family that he's staying with, but she's staying in the hotel because she doesn't want to be a bother. She wants to get to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. She didn't read the books until a couple years ago, and she read them back-to-back before watching all the movies over a weekend."

Finn couldn't help but smile at the mental image Sami's words created. How easy it was to imagine her curled up on a couch with a book. No, she was more the type to read in bed. Propped up against a pile of pillows. Tucked under a blanket. With a cup of tea or coffee on the nightstand growing cold because she couldn't put the book down.

"Oh, she likes old movies too, not just horror. She loves cheesy old musicals. She prefers Katharine Hepburn to Marilyn Monroe, and thinks Hitchcock was a genius, but thinks his black-and-white films were the best. She'd love to see _Rebecca_ on the big screen." Sami paused to sip his tea, then settled back and pursed his lips. "What else… She loves to read. She'll read pretty much anything she can get her hands on, but her favorite stuff to read is true crime and biographies. Right now she's in the middle of a biography on John Adams."

Finn nodded, recalling the thick book he'd seen next to her laptop backstage. "You learned more about her in thirty minutes than I did in two days…"

"She's staying at the Homewood Suites." Sami scratched his chin then smoothed his beard. "Since she'll be down here every week she said it seemed like a better idea than getting a different hotel room. You know the place, right? It's the extended-stay hotel?"

"I…" Looking up from his tea, Finn bit the inside of his lip when Sami met his gaze. "Okay?"

"I'm just letting you know."

"Did you happen to get her birthdate and favorite color?" Finn retorted.

"You act like I gave her the third degree." Sami rolled his eyes. "The mixed drink? She didn't like it because it had pineapple in it. Said she hates pineapple because she doesn't trust a fruit that has the ability to dissolve the inside of her mouth. She prefers kiwi. Oh, and she loves Chinese food. And even though she doesn't mind monsters or zombies or psychotic axe-wielding murderers, she hates clowns. They give her the creeps."

Finn could only stare at his friend, marveling that he had found out so much about Violet in such a short period of time. He imagined a rapid, exuberant discussion, with a lot of over-talking and interruptions. "Anything else?"

"No, I think that's about it." Sami took another sip of tea, then set his mug down with a thump. "Oh! She likes cats. You know, she's really cool. If you don't make a move soon, I might just ask her out myself. I'm sure she'd love Doyle and Mikey."

"Yeah." Thinking of Sami's beloved, spoiled, fat cats, Finn resisted the urge to scowl. "I didn't think you liked her…"

"Oh, I do," Sami assured with a vigorous nod. "I didn't hold her hand all morning at the zoo, but I like her."

"But—"

"Y'know, it's early," the man announced, glancing at the clock. "I think I'll go by her hotel and see if she wants some company tonight. Maybe there's an old movie on, and we can order in some Chinese… What do you think?"

"I think—" Finn cut off to clear his throat. "I think that if you like…" He paused, forcing his jaw to unclench. "I think if you like her, then that sounds like a solid plan… You ass."

Sami grinned. "I think I prefer my head on my shoulders where it belongs, so… I'll just let you know about the double feature down at the Rialto tonight. Half-price popcorn."

"Double feature," Finn repeated, giving his head a quick shake. Had he missed something? "What the hell are you talking about?"

"They're having runs of classic movies all summer. This week it's a double feature of…" He picked up his phone and ignored Finn's look of confusion, then pushed the device towards him. " _Singin' in the Rain_ and _White Christmas_."

"Christmas? In August?" Finn looked at the screen for a long moment, remembering seeing the movies as a child. His parents had always been suckers for a good musical. And _White Christmas_ had been viewed at least every other day in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

"Americans," Sami explained with a shrug. "So, what do you say?"

Realization dawned and Finn felt his stomach twist in… Anxiety? Anticipation? He pushed the phone back to Sami and got to his feet. "I think if I'm going to the theater, I need a shower."

"Good idea."

He stopped halfway to the bathroom. "What if she says no?"

"Dude," Sami sighed, taking Finn's mug and shaking his head. "She won't say no."

"But what if she does?"

"She won't."

"But what if she _does_?" Finn stressed. He hadn't actually asked a woman out in years. Not since… pushing away that unpleasant memory, he rubbed a hand over his face. Violet didn't know him. She might not even answer if he showed up at her hotel and knocked at the door. And who would blame her? She was in a strange city, where she knew no one.

With Sami's assurances that she wouldn't say no still ringing in his head, he went to shower. She would say no. Or do the mysterious female thing and say that she would love to but she had to stay in. Because she had to wash her hair or she hadn't shaved her legs or whatever the reason would be.

Did woman actually admit to not having shaved their legs?

He tucked the towel around his waist and was reaching to open the bathroom door when there was a knock and it swung towards him. "Jesus Christ," he yelped as Sami appeared in the doorway. "What?!"

"I just remembered something important."

"What?" Finn inhaled deeply to calm his racing heart. He was going to murder Sami.

"Her favorite color is red." Sami glanced over his shoulder to the closet. "You got a red shirt that's clean?"

"Get the fuck out," Finn insisted with a wave of his hands. As though he were shooing an annoying fly. It worked, though, and his friend backed out, murmuring apologetically.

When he exited the bedroom a few moments later, Sami was still there. He wasn't surprised. He had an inkling that he wanted to make sure he actually went through with the sudden plan. Freezing as he reached for his phone, Finn wondered if he would look back at some point during the evening and see his friend spying on him. He gave his head a shake and grabbed his phone, slipping it into his pocket while he reached for his keys.

After a moment of silence, he grunted and muttered, "Sorry for yelling."

"Sorry for barging in."

They shared a smile, and walked out together. As they headed towards the parking area, Finn wondered if he was about to make an absolute asshole of himself. For all he knew, Violet had made plans for the night since talking to Sami. He had no way of knowing. Although she had a Twitter and Instagram, she posted things related to her job. He hadn't dared to search for her on Facebook, so he had no idea if she posted regularly on there or not.

"Stop worrying." Sami fished out his keys and unlocked his car, which he'd parked next to Finn's.

"But what if—"

"If for some reason she says no – which I doubt she will – just call me and we'll go do something, alright?" He paused, fingers on the door handle. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, man," Finn said, truly meaning it.

"Oh, Finn," Sami called just as Finn climbed into his own car.

Sighing, Finn started the car and lowered the passenger window. "What now?"

"There's a Chinese place two blocks from the theater." With a grin, Sami waved. In seconds, he'd driven off.

By the time he reached where she was staying he had almost talked himself out of going through with his foolish idea. No, it was Sami's foolish idea. What type of man just showed up without warning? If he was Violet, he wouldn't appreciate the sudden intrusion on his time off. She wasn't even really going to have time off for the next few weeks, he remembered with a groan, staring at the entrance through his windshield. Muttering a curse, he pulled out his phone and found the theater's website.

"Fuck," he grumbled, realizing the first feature would start in thirty minutes. They were going to be late.

If they even went.

Two minutes later he entered the lobby. Assaulted by the odor of strong coffee, he wrinkled his nose. The automatic door behind him tried to close then slid open again, and with a sigh he realized he was standing in the line of the sensor. He stepped forward, gaze drifting around the area. The floor was carpeted. Bright wooden accents, light shades of green, and floral fabrics gave the seating area a pleasant atmosphere. A sign on the far wall pointed the way to a convenience shop, the dining room, the pool, the laundry room, and the gym. A large desk dominated the wall to his right, and he was aware of the clerk watching him.

Fucking hell, he was going to have to ask them to ring her room. What if she'd left word that she didn't want to be disturbed? He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, aware of the seconds ticking by. His phone vibrated in his pocket and, startled, he remembered that he had her number. He mentally cursed himself for being an idiot. He could have called her before leaving his place. It would have saved him a lot of worrying. Just as he began to pull out his phone he heard the muffled bell of an elevator. On the off chance it was Violet, he looked up.

A man rounded the corner beyond the desk. Steve. Finn recognized him and was about to lift his hand in a quick wave when the man looked to him. As he neared, his expression shifted to confusion then surprise then pleasure.

"Finn?"

"Hiya Steve," he greeted. The man was older than him. By a good ten years at least. It showed in the faint lines on his face, and the traces of silver in his hair. He was swarthy, his brawny figure just starting to soften with middle age. Finn supposed women found him attractive. He'd spent less than ten minutes chatting with him backstage the two previous days, so he wasn't quite sure if he liked him or not. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing as you I guess." Steve chuckled. "Came to see Violet."

No, he didn't like him. The man was supposed to be staying with family, wasn't he? Why the hell was he dropping by to see Violet? The sudden flare of jealousy hit him unexpectedly and he swallowed it down. They worked together. There were at least two dozen good reasons for the man to want to see her.

"I had to drop off some proofs," Steve explained. "They could have waited until tomorrow, but I'm planning on hitting the beach with some old friends. Does she know you're here?"

"Uh… No, I…"

Steve lifted his eyebrows, then nodded. "It's okay, man. You don't have to explain yourself to me. Go on up. Room three-oh-five."

"Thanks," Finn said. Okay, so he could like Steve. "Have fun at the beach."

"I will. See you this weekend."

The third floor smelled of fresh paint and pine-scented cleaner. Finn walked past the armchair next to a table with a vase of fresh flowers. Violet's room was at the end of the hall, and he was relieved to see there was no 'do not disturb' sign hanging from the doorknob.

Drawing in a breath, he carefully straightened his shirt before reaching up to smooth his hair. Then, moistening his lips, he rapped on the door.

A few seconds passed before he heard the click of a lock. The door opened a few inches, and he smiled when her face appeared in the crack. He was sure she'd looked through the peephole before opening the door, and was amused when her eyes widened.

"Finn," she blurted, opening the door further. "What are you – How – I mean, hi."

"I just thought I'd…" He had no idea how to explain his appearance at her door. Was honesty still the best policy? It couldn't hurt… Hopefully. "I got the idea you don't know anyone in town, and… I was wondering if you'd like to catch a movie and dinner?"

Her teeth caught her bottom lip. From within the room came the sound of a microwave beeping. "That would be my dinner," she muttered. "I… Come in."

She pulled the door fully open so he could enter. Once he'd done so, he found himself standing next to a tiny kitchen. There were grocery bags on the counter. The microwave beeped again and she slipped past him, sweeping the carton of a frozen meal into the trashcan. Hesitating, he looked around. An island bar separated the kitchen from the rest of the room, which was almost as large as his entire apartment. The large bed was neatly made, an empty suitcase lying open atop it. Her laptop and cell phone were on the desk, her purse in the padded chair. The TV was on, its sound muted, and in front of the double window was a loveseat, where a suitcase lay open. Another suitcase was standing in front of the dresser. From where he stood he could just see into the bathroom. Turning to look at Violet, he realized that Sami's idea would not come to fruition.

"Ugh," she muttered, making a face at the small plastic tray in her hand. Shaking her head, she threw it into the trashcan and reached for the bottle of Pepsi on the counter. She took a sip, wrinkled her nose, and took another. "Sorry. That tasted terrible."

"What was it?" he asked, glancing to the trashcan.

"The box said it was lasagna, but it tasted like cardboard soaked in ketchup." She set her drink down. "I guess I'll just order in."

He opened his mouth to suggest he could take her to dinner, but she cut him off before he could speak.

"Could I take a rain check on the movie and dinner? I've got laundry going downstairs, and I need to get some stuff organized here."

"Of course," he said, nodding quickly. "I shouldn't have just barged in."

"Oh, you're fine. I really appreciate your offer." She smiled and pushed her hair behind her shoulders. "And… I mean, if you don't have other things… You're welcome to stay and eat with me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she echoed, her cheeks starting to color with a soft pink. "And _Shadow of a Doubt_ is coming on in about an hour. You know, the Hitchcock movie? If you're into old movies, that is…"

"I've never seen it," he admitted with a rueful grin. She looked so excited at the prospect of seeing the old film.

"You've never… You've never seen _Golden Girls_ , you've never seen _Shadow of a Doubt_ … What have you been doing with your time?" she sighed. Opening a drawer, she pulled out a handful of takeout menus.

"Oh, you know," he said with a shrug, venturing further into the room. Placing his keys and phone on the bar, he sat on one of the stools and pulled the nearest menu close. "Going around the world getting my ass handed to me."

"Is that all?" she scoffed playfully, spreading the other menus out on the counter. "The rest of the world doesn't have TVs?"

"Nope. No television anywhere else but America." He looked up from the menu in front of him and shared her grin.

"I shall make an effort to fill in the gaps of your limited knowledge."

Laughing now, he felt the last traces of anxiety slip away. So the evening wouldn't go as he'd hoped. He would still spend time with her. "What are you going to order?"

"Food," she answered. "But I've never ordered from any of these places, so I don't know which to go for."

He reached for the other menus, disrupting the neat row she'd made. Flipping through them, he pointed out the restaurants he'd ordered from before. Thinking of the lasagna she'd thrown out, he tapped the menu for the little Italian place that he liked. "They're not fancy. Decent prices, and the food's good. No cardboard. And," he added, watching her teeth move over her bottom lip, "They give you real grated Parmesan."

"Not Parmesan-flavored sawdust?" She smiled. "I'm sold."

Just as he had assumed she would, she wrote down their order on a complimentary notepad before calling. She didn't stand still while talking on the phone, instead pacing back and forth. Finn slowly gathered the other menus and watched her. Her hair was loose, he realized. He hadn't noticed before how long it was, and wondered if she had a particular reason for letting it grow nearly to her waist. She was definitely dressed for a night in, and when she turned slightly he saw the shirt she wore was faded and well-loved. The sleeves had been cut off, and the wording was nearly all gone, but he recognized it as a Randy Orton shirt. Her denim cut-offs showed off her legs, and he followed the length of them. They were smooth. Defined calves tapered to her ankles, and he saw her feet were bare. Menus in hand, he stared at her feet, watching one lift so the toes could bounce against the carpet.

"They said it'll be here in about forty minutes," she announced, turning to face him. He was slow dragging his gaze from her legs and when he looked to her face her eyes were wide. "God, I look a mess. I better change."

"Why?"

"Look at me."

He had been, which was why he couldn't understand the sudden need to change. But he let his eyes rove down and up her figure again. "Okay?"

"I look gross and awful and—"

"You look great," he interrupted, the words slipping out before he could censor them. "I didn't come here to look at you. I mean, I just want… I'm the one that showed up unannounced in your personal space, and…" He gestured aimlessly. "As long as you're comfortable, I don't care what you've got on. Just be you."

Her lips slowly curved into a smile. "You mean that," she murmured.

"Of course I do. And you look better than I do when I'm at home." Standing, he moved to put the menus back in the drawer, and nodded when he heard her snort. "Really. At least you're wearing clothes."

"You—" She shook her head, glancing at her phone when it began to blare a familiar tune. After silencing it, she tossed the phone onto the bed. "I need to switch out my laundry. You stay here, and I'll be right back."

He nodded. "No problem."

Violet grabbed a pair of sandals from the suitcase on the loveseat and slipped them onto her feet, then pushed the suitcase onto the floor "Make yourself at home," she insisted, motioning to the coffee table. "The remote's there, and there's drinks in the fridge. Help yourself. I'll be back in a few minutes."

The drinks she had mentioned were mostly Pepsi, though he did find a few bottles of water. Taking one, he leaned against the counter, wondering just how he had wound up standing in the room of a woman he'd known less than a week. It was far from normal for him. And yet, he wasn't nervous. Not now that he was here. Before she'd let him in with that little smile of hers, he had been a nervous wreck. He hadn't known what to expect, or what she would expect.

He still didn't know what to expect, but he was okay with that.

Well, he knew to expect dinner and a movie. And, he thought with a small smile, good conversation. His first impressions of Violet had been that she was shy and, aside from her thought-provoking questions, rather quiet. Each time he saw her, though, she seemed to be a little more open. A little more at-ease. He could appreciate and understand that, because it was so similar to how he was.

Did she have expectations beyond dinner and the movie? The thought struck him just as he lifted the bottle of water to take a gulp. He instinctively coughed when his throat began to swallow and he bent over, somehow managing not to choke. The water had spilled to the floor and down his front. Sighing, he set the bottle on the counter and looked for something to mop up the mess.

He had cleared the water from the floor with paper towels and was muttering curses under his breath as he attempted to wring out his t-shirt when a knock sounded at the door. Crossing to open it, he offered a sheepish smile as Violet's gaze immediately went to his wet shirt. "Spilled my water," he explained.

"You know…" she trailed as she entered. A mesh laundry bag dangled from her fingers and she shook it, turning to face him while he closed the door. "I've got a shirt you can borrow."

Opening his mouth to suggest they weren't the same size, he quickly refrained, mind returning to the immature jibes he'd overheard in the locker room. It would probably offend her. Or worse, hurt her feelings. And he definitely didn't want that to happen. So, nodding, he slipped his shoes off and finally stepped into the main portion of the room. He saw a generic art print hung above the bed, one that he had probably seen in countless hotel rooms around the world. "Thanks."

"No problem. Take your pick," she told him, indicating the shirts she'd thrown onto the bed.

They chatted easily while she moved around, putting things away. She explained what Sami had already told him: that she had decided it was better to have a room to call her own for the few weeks she would be going back and forth. Especially considering she wouldn't have time to return to her place in Miami. Yes, she could have commuted to Orlando the two days a week she wouldn't be on the road, but she hated the thought of driving that much in a day. In turn, he told her about his stays in Japan, sharing a house with several other men, and how it had made him long for his own space. That led to discussing the little place he'd bought in Ireland, with its views of the sea and creaky floorboards. And how he enjoyed the peace it offered when he was able to get back home.

"So you still consider Ireland home?" she asked softly. She'd finished unpacking and was now sitting cross-legged on the bed facing him.

"Yeah, but it's not like it used to be. Right now home is a few miles from here," he said. Rubbing his chin, he shook his head. "But it's not really home, you know? It's temporary."

"I understand." Her smile was brief and sad. "It's the same way I feel about my place in Miami. It's home, but it's not home. It's where I live."

"Where's home for you?"

"Atlanta I suppose. It's where I spent the bulk of my life. I still have a few friends there. But… When I get back it's not the same. My mom still stays in the same little house I basically grew up in, but… I don't know, it's hard to explain."

"I get it," he promised with a nod. "Does your dad still live in Pennsylvania?"

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I don't know."

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to bring up—"

"No, it's fine. I never knew him. He… Well…" From his place on the loveseat he heard her inhale and exhale slowly. "My mom didn't know him, either."

"Then…" Confused, he felt his brow furrow. "Er, how do you mean?"

"I mean she didn't know him. I'm the result of a drunken one-night stand." There was a sudden bitterness in her voice that left Finn speechless.

He should apologize. But for what? She'd said it was fine, even though her tone indicated it wasn't, really. Before he could find the proper words to say, the phone on the desk was ringing. She all but leapt off the bed, clearly glad for the interruption, so he kept the questions that were popping in his head to himself.

"The food's on its way up," she announced, dropping the receiver in its cradle.

He quietly followed her into the kitchen, where they began to gather utensils and drinks. The silence wasn't awkward, and after bumping into each other several times over the course of two minutes they were both laughing. Finally she shooed him out, and he obediently sat on a stool and watched her.

"Do you have any rules against eating in front of the TV?" she asked, placing the utensils on the bar in front of him. When he shook his head, she smiled in relief. "Take this over there while I get drinks. Do you want a glass with ice?"

"That would be great," he said.

The food arrived, filling the room with the delectable aroma of marinara sauce and garlic bread. Violet paid, waving off Finn's offer to pay half. Silence reigned again while they sorted the containers out on the coffee table, which she had moved between the foot of the bed and the dresser. They sat, backs against the bed, and Finn reached for a piece of the crusty bread.

"Be honest," she said after a moment, using a spoon to sprinkle grated Parmesan over her lasagna. "How many hours of cardio will it take you to make up for eating a meal like this?"

"Not that much, really," he admitted, pulling his dish of spaghetti closer. "I've always had trouble keeping weight on."

"You're kidding."

"Honestly," he insisted. "The cardio is so I won't be out of breath in ten seconds when I get in the ring. The weights are for strength."

"If I wasn't starving, that might make me want to just eat a couple bites. Because I can already feel my pants getting tighter. But…" She lifted her fork, eyes on the layered noodles, sauce, and cheese. "I am starving and this smells heavenly."

"Do you do any weights or cardio?" he asked after tasting his spaghetti. Then, fearing he may have veered to another touchy subject, he took a breath to backtrack. But she was nodding.

"I do. Not weights, but I get on the treadmill in my building's gym a few times a week. My problem is that I like food too much. I don't claim to be a food addict. I just like to eat. And sit on my butt to watch a movie instead of working out." She took a sip of her drink and wrinkled her nose. "Plus I like Pepsi and sugary coffee more than I like water. I tried that low carb diet last summer and, god, I was ready to murder someone within two days."

"You didn't, did you?"

"No," she laughed, shoulder bumping his lightly. "I suffered. It got better. And I did lose weight. I just…"

"What?"

"I couldn't stick with it. After about two months I decided that, hey, one real Pepsi wouldn't kill me. That turned into having one a day. I couldn't see where it was hurting me, so I let myself have other treats. A candy bar in the afternoon, or some ice cream after supper. In no time I was back where I'd started, sitting on my couch eating Cheetos and feeling like a failure."

"Violet," he sighed, hating the sadness that suddenly emanated from her.

"It's okay, Finn. I'm used to it. I've been fat since I was thirteen. I'll be fat when I'm sixty-three." Her fork stabbed the lasagna and she hesitated only a second before cutting off another bite.

Silent, Finn looked at her, wishing he could magically find words to say that would make her laugh. None came, so he worked on twirling spaghetti on his fork, gaze drifting to the TV screen in time to see that the movie she wanted to watch would be coming up next. He looked at her again and froze, fork halfway between his dish and his mouth, when he found her looking at him.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to taste her, even though he was absolutely certain that once wouldn't be enough. He longed to touch her, to feel her, to find out if her skin was as soft as her lips had been against his cheek. He needed to know her. To find out what her dreams were. What made her cry. What broke her heart. Her childhood, her passions, her loves. He wanted to find out why she would never taste beer. Why kiwi was her favorite. He wanted to learn everything. Where her ticklish spots were. Where she liked to be touched, or kissed. He yearned to prove to her that she wasn't a failure. That she was beautiful. She was a novel with an alluring cover, but he wanted to memorize what was inside. Her heartbeat, her breath. He wanted – _needed_ – it all, but found he could only stare at her.

Because, really, how the fuck could he possibly tell her all of _that_? She'd probably laugh in his face. No, she wouldn't laugh. But she would no doubt be freaked out by the speech. And he didn't want to freak her out. Not now. Not ever.

She blinked behind her glasses, looking away first, and so he did and said nothing.

"I know I've seen him before."

Violet smiled at Finn's hushed tone. He'd said the words before, towards the beginning of the movie, and had repeated them each time that particular actor appeared on the screen. Pushing the bowl of microwaved popcorn she'd made towards him, she settled back against the pillows propped against the headboard. "It's Henry Travers."

"Oh." Finn scooped popcorn into his hand and munched quietly for a moment. "Who is he?"

"Clarence from _It's A Wonderful Life_?" she offered.

"The angel!" he blurted triumphantly, nearly upsetting the bowl. "Thanks. It was killing me."

He settled back as well, offering her more popcorn. When she shook her head, focus on the screen, he leaned away. She heard the bowl land softly on the nightstand, then he was back, tucking one arm behind his head.

She wasn't quite sure when his arm came down around her shoulders. One moment it wasn't there, and the next it was. It didn't scare her or worry her. The simple fact that it did neither of those things was what unnerved her though. And the fact that there was something so natural about it. Just as holding his hand at the zoo had felt so natural, so did the weight of his arm around her. He shifted and, unable to resist, she did as well, letting her head rest against his shoulder. Holding her breath, half-fearing he would pull away, she exhaled softly when his hand squeezed her shoulder.

"I like this," he murmured after a moment.

Certain he was talking about the movie, which was reaching its climax, she nodded. "I know it's tame by today's standards, but I love it."

He chuckled, then remained silent through the rest of the film. His arm grew heavy but comforting, and every once in a while she felt his fingers whisper against her bare upper arm. When the screen faded to black she released a sigh and reached for the remote. She switched off the TV and felt him stir. He stretched next to her, groaning. Sitting up, she looked to him in surprise.

"You fell asleep."

"Only right at the end," he promised with a lazy smile. "She and the cop got together, right?'

"Yeah." Amused when he concealed a yawn behind his hand, she slid off the bed. Her legs ached as they always did after sitting for so long but she ignored it, walking around to get the bowl so she could clean it. He didn't move, and her gaze landed on the wallet he'd tossed onto the nightstand when they'd moved to sit on the bed. Unsure of exactly what she should say, because naturally he wasn't planning to stay the night, she looked to the bits of the popcorn still in the bowl.

"Alright if I use the bathroom?" he asked, sitting up.

"Of course."

Brazenly, she watched him get to his feet. The shirt he'd borrowed was just a little looser on his frame than the shirts he normally wore. She followed him with her gaze, biting her lip at the way the dark blue cotton stretched across his shoulders when he stretched his arms. The bathroom door snapped closed behind him and she gave her head a brief shake. She tried not to wonder – for the millionth time – why he was spending time with her. But the thoughts came as she went to wash out the bowl.

Was he possibly interested? If so, why? There were thousands more interesting, more beautiful, women that would give their left arms to be with him. Not to mention the fact that he was surrounded by gorgeous women every day at his job. Women that he obviously had more in common with that he did with her. She was a nobody. Just Violet, the fat girl that liked to write about wrestling three times a week. Just Violet, the woman that nobody had ever taken a second look at before. Just Violet.

He was just being nice, she decided. The questions he'd asked about home and family had been out of pity. She cringed as she recalled telling him about her struggles with weight loss. While gorging herself on lasagna, no less. He'd probably have a good laugh about it later. Yes, pity. That had to be it. Why else would he have shown up unannounced, saying he'd take her to dinner and a movie? He'd even said as much, saying he figured she didn't know anyone in Orlando. Pity for the fat girl, she thought, hating that the idea made her suddenly sad.

Because she liked him. He was easy to talk to, even about things she rarely discussed with people she'd known for years. And he was funny. Cute, too. Handsome, yes, but cute as well. There was an adorable aspect about him that had drawn her in. His excitement over giraffes. The unexpected giggle he let out now and then. The way his eyes had lit up while talking about Lego. Yes, he was definitely cute.

She fully expected him to have his own shirt on and immediately go for his wallet, then his keys and phone, when he came out of the bathroom. Steeling herself against the awareness that she didn't want to go, she turned from the sink when she heard the door open. And almost sighed with relief. He was still wearing her shirt. And he didn't immediately start to gather his things.

"My shirt's still wet," he said with a quick smile.

She had thought it would be dry by now. She'd used the hair dryer on it briefly before draping it over the towel rack. She'd offered to take it down to the laundry room and throw it in a dryer but he'd said it was no big deal. Suddenly aware that she was still holding the bowl, which she'd washed and dried, she turned to put it in the cabinet. What now?

After making sure the kitchen was straight she rounded the island, chewing on her bottom lip when she saw him sitting on the bed. His back was to her, and she held back a sigh. God, did he want sex? The sudden thought caused her breath to catch in her throat. He couldn't. Not with her.

"Guess I should be going," he said. But he didn't move.

Making her feet move so they propelled her forward, she nudged the coffee table back to its spot in front of the loveseat. She turned to tell him she'd had a wonderful night, pressing her lips together when she saw him trying to hide a yawn. "…How far away is your place?"

"About twenty minutes or so, depending on traffic." He yawned again, then smiled apologetically. "Sorry. It's been a long day."

"Does it count as an off day if you spend most of it traveling and unpacking doing laundry?" she asked, crossing to get the book out of her purse. Catching his shrug as she placed the thick volume on the nightstand, she bit back a smile when he yawned once more. "You know, it's dangerous to drive when you're tired."

"Is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. He rolled his shoulders, but made no move to stand.

"Of course. Studies show that driving while tired is just as dangerous as driving while intoxicated, if not more so. Impaired judgement and all." She motioned to the pillows. "Will a quick nap reinvigorate you?"

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not. I've got to run down and get my laundry, and I always read before bed. I'll wake you up in, what, thirty minutes?" she suggested.

"I don't want to be a—"

"You're not."

"Thirty minutes," he confirmed with a nod.

Gathering her phone and key, she glanced back in time to see him settle back on the bed. She was about to offer to turn out the lights for him, but he slung one arm over his face and released a sigh that confirmed his exhaustion.

She took her time getting her laundry from the dryer, enjoying the gentle heat of the room as well as the strong aroma of soap and fabric softener. While folding the clothes, she tried not to think about the possibility of Finn wanting to have sex. She couldn't. It was entirely too soon. Wasn't it? Groaning, she shook out one of the shirts she'd gotten from the merchandise table before Raw. She'd go upstairs, put away her laundry, then wake him up. She'd tell him it had been a great evening, and that she'd see him Friday at the house show. Yes, that was what she would do. Thank you so much for the company. Really enjoyed hanging out with you. Maybe we can do it again sometime. So affirmed, she went back upstairs, checking the time while she unlocked her door. Twenty-five minutes.

Once she entered the room, though, her bravado rushed away in an instant.

He was asleep.

Fast asleep, she realized when she closed the door behind her and he didn't stir. She placed her basket of clean laundry on the dresser then turned to look at him.

He was still on his back. His arm was still draped over his face. The only difference was that he'd removed the shirt he'd been wearing, and her book lay open next to him. His hand rested on one page as though to save his place. His chest rose and fell with each throat. She cleared her throat, just to be absolutely sure, and sighed when he didn't so much as flinch. Stepping closer to the bed, she leaned over him to slip the book away, wondering if he'd begun reading it to make sure he fell asleep. The biography of John Adams couldn't be considered light reading, after all. Quietly, she went around the room to turn out the lights, leaving the bedside lamp on.

She grabbed one of the oversized t-shirts she usually wore to bed and ducked into the bathroom. Taking her time changing, brushing her teeth, and washing her face, she was certain he would wake up while she was performing her nightly routine. He'd be awake and waiting for his shirt, she decided, glancing to where it hung on the towel rack.

But when she exited, he was still asleep.

She considered shaking him to wake him up, but shook her head. That would be cruel. She doubted he got a decent night's sleep while on the road. She knew she hadn't, and she had only been on the road a whopping two days so far. Her body was looking forward to a night of rest, and she knew from her few short hours of sleep the night before that the mattress was good. No, she wouldn't wake him. He'd probably wake up soon, anyway. And he was a grown man, he could see himself out.

Clutching the book to her chest, she rounded to the other side of the bed. Her climbing in and getting comfortable would probably wake him. It didn't, though, and she situated her pillows then reached to pull the covers up. As she did so she heard the central air start and, biting her lip, made sure to cover him as well. Settling back, she stared at the ceiling for several long moments before she allowed herself to breathe normally. Then, leaning to put her glasses on the nightstand and switch off the lamp, she wondered if she would wake up when he left.

Sleep came quickly for her. Despite being keenly aware of his deep, even breaths next to her, exhaustion won over. She shifted, stretching as she always did just before falling asleep, and felt the warmth of his hand against her arm just before her eyes drifted closed.

"I should go."

The words were mumbled but they pulled her from unconsciousness. Confused, she rolled onto her side, tugging the covers up to her chin. "Hmm?"

"I should go." The words were accompanied by a hand bumping against her back.

"Mmm. Hmm." Violet stretched out one leg, grunting when her foot met a warm leg. "Hey."

"You're asleep, aren't you?" The voice was low, and closer this time. The hand moved to her waist.

"Mm-hmm." She refused to open her eyes. Such a nice dream. Imagine, Finn in bed with her… Of course, he was talking about having to go. Typical. "…Stay."

"Stay?"

His arm tucked around her waist and she actually heard the whisper of his body sliding forward. Yes, stay, she thought with a soft hum.

"Sweet dreams, _a thaisce_."

Her first thought when she awoke was that she couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so well. There had been no waking up in the middle of the night. No trips to the bathroom, no having to read to fall back to sleep. Her dreams had been pleasant. Sighing, she kept her eyes closed, tightening her arm around the pillow she'd pulled close.

The pillow didn't move, though, and she opened her eyes. Jaw dropping open when a male body came into focus, she lifted her head.

Her arm was around his waist. She watched her hand move over his abdomen while she tried to boost herself into a seated position. "Shit," she whispered, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Attempting to smooth her hair back, she went still when she felt his arm around her. Slowly, she grew aware of the positioning of their bodies.

Had he moved closer? Or had she? Vaguely, she recalled the dream she'd had of him tucking his arm around her waist. That had been a dream, hadn't it? She supposed it didn't matter now. At some point they'd both moved, and the fact she was all but sprawled over him caused her heart to skip a beat. One of her legs was tucked between his. Her arm had been around his waist. Her head on his chest. His arm was around her, hand resting casually on her backside.

"Shit," she whispered again. As carefully as she possibly could, she extricated herself, nudging the covers up over his chest once she'd moved back. He'd stayed. All night. With her. Ignoring the annoying little voice in the back of her mind that insisted he had only stayed because he was tired, she allowed herself a small smile. Sitting up, she worked to smooth her unruly hair, giving up when Finn shifted.

Ugh, she thought, envy and wonder clashing. He was beautiful when sleeping. It really wasn't fair. He was already extraordinarily handsome at all other times, did he have to be even more so while asleep? He didn't even snore, for crying out loud. No, he just lay there, his breathing the deep, even rhythm of true slumber. His lips were slightly parted, and she could just see his dark eyelashes fanning his cheeks. Blatantly staring, she jerked slightly when he rolled onto his side, the arm that had been around her stretching out.

"Are you going to stare at me all morning?" he inquired. His voice, gravelly from sleep, was gentle, his accent just a tad thicker than normal.

"I wasn't—" She cut off when she saw his lips pulling into a smile. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since you wiggled away." He finally opened his eyes, one hand reaching to lightly punch down the pillow.

"I didn't expect you to still be here," she admitted.

"I woke up about one…" He pushed himself up on his elbow and rubbed his eyes. "You told me to stay."

She had? Fuck, it _hadn't_ been a dream. Though she wasn't quite sure just why, she was pleased he had stayed. She leaned forward, then stopped before she could kiss him on the cheek. Sitting back, she cleared her throat. "I'm glad you did."

His hand brushed the side of her face as she slid away. "I am, too."

"Breakfast?" she offered once she was out of the bed. Tugging the hem of her shirt down to conceal more of her thighs, she mentally went over the food she'd purchased the day before. "Unless you have to rush—"

"I can stay for breakfast." He sat up and stretched his arms out before pushing the covers back.

She changed in the bathroom then went to the kitchen to fix breakfast. The hotel offered a free breakfast every morning downstairs, but she knew from her trips back and forth to unload her rental car, get a few groceries, and then to get a few things she'd forgotten to get, that the place was almost full. She dreaded the thought of dragging herself downstairs and having to deal with more than a few people before she'd had her first cup of coffee.

Finn came out of the bathroom just as she was pulling the tray of precooked bacon from the oven. Nodding when she offered coffee, he sat on a stool at the bar. He picked up his phone and slipped it into the pocket of his shorts.

"Sugar? I don't have any of the calorie-free stuff," she explained as she set a steaming cup in front of him.

"A little milk if you've got any."

She placed the small carton next to the cup, then handed over a spoon. "Your waffles are almost done."

"Waffles?" he repeated, looking up from his coffee with a smile.

She smiled as well, because he looked as though she'd just told him Santa had come for a visit. "It sounded better than cold cereal…"

"You're spoiling me," he murmured. Then, taking a sip of his coffee, he sighed. "Are you going to get out and see the sites when you're here?"

They discussed what he considered the must-see attractions of Orlando. She doubted she would have time to see them all, but admitted she hoped to see the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Maybe she could stay an extra day or two to do just that. When she placed his plate in front of him he smiled that enchanted smile again, and she laughed when he rubbed his hands together.

Conversation stalled as they ate, but she didn't mind. Still amazed at how comfortable it was just to quietly enjoy his company, she watched him practically wolf down his waffles and bacon. And she felt a tiny bit of pride when he put one hand over his stomach and muttered that he was stuffed. While she began clearing the dishes he sighed, and she heard the rattle of his keys as he picked them up.

"I should get going," he announced.

She turned from the sink to look at him. "I understand."

Still, it was several moments before he moved to get his wallet. He sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes. She bit the inside of her lip as he pulled on the shirt she'd loaned him the night before, but made no move to correct him.

"Thanks for dinner," he said. Then, he chuckled. "And breakfast."

"Thanks for the company." Wiping her hands on a paper towel, she walked with him to the door.

He hesitated, hands in his pockets, looking at her. "I'll see you tomorrow at the house show?"

"I'll be there. Ready to ask nosy questions and turn into a complete nerd when I see something amazing."

"Nerds are great." Smiling, he reached to open the door. Then, turning in the doorway, he cleared his throat. "I can't remember where the elevator is."

"Really? It's…" She had started to lift a finger to point, and quickly nudged her glasses up on her nose. The elevator was just down the hall. If she leaned out the door she'd be able to see it. "Would you like me to walk down with you?"

"Would you? I'd hate to get lost."

Fighting a grin, she reached to flip the doorstop, stepping out into the hallway when he moved. "It's this way," she reminded him. The carpet was fuzzy beneath her bare feet. They walked slowly to the elevator, and she ducked her head as Finn waved for a young family not to wait for him.

"I would have definitely missed it," he decided with a firm nod, arm leaning against hers briefly. He waited a moment for the elevator to get to the first floor, then pressed the down button.

"Oh, definitely. It's hardly noticeable, what with the shiny doors and buttons on the wall." Bouncing the toes of one foot against the floor, she shook her head. "How do you find your way around backstage?"

"There are signs literally every three feet telling me which way to go," he defended.

He had her there. Sighing with defeat, she shook her head again. "I give up."

"Have you ever been to a live show before?" he asked suddenly.

"Actually, I haven't. I usually make it to TV airings."

"I'm sure you'll love it. It's a completely different atmosphere."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"So am I."

She reached to tuck that annoying lock of hair behind her ear but his fingers were already grazing her cheek. One finger caught the lock and gently swept it back, then followed the curve of her ear to her jaw. Letting her hand fall to her side, she slowly drew in a breath as his finger trailed to her chin. She raised her head, finally meeting his eyes, her mind absurdly going blank. Aware of the elevator doors sliding open behind him, she waited for him to draw away.

Instead, he leaned close, and his breath fanned over her cheek a split second before his lips pressed against hers. They were cool. Soft. The kiss was brief and chaste but still managed to leave her breathless when he slowly pulled back.

"See you tomorrow, Violet." His words came out on a ragged sigh.

Then he was stepping away, and the doors were closing. And he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you everyone for all of the AMAZING love you've given this story. I'm still utterly heartbroken over Finn's injury and subsequent title relinquishment last week. Also, this chapter isn't as long as the last one. Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Five

"Tonight is what's called a live show. How do live shows differ from what fans see on TV?"

"Oh, it's night and day."

"How so?"

"The biggest difference is the setup. The seats are closer to the ring, because they don't have to make room for cameras and photographers. So it's more intimate. And the lights are down, with just the spotlight on the ring. The stage is smaller, the entrance graphics aren't as big. Really, it's a majorly scaled-down production. Because of that, we're able to relax a little more."

"Do you stay in character like you do for TV?"

"To an extent. But we cut up a lot more. You get a microphone and tell corny jokes to the crowd before the match. The audience is more involved. A few weeks ago, I actually hopped over the barricade and sat down for a minute while my opponent was screaming at me from the ring. We have fun at the TV tapings, don't get me wrong. But live shows we get to relax and have more fun. Time constraints are still there, but there's more leeway."

"So if you go out there for your match tonight and the crowd starts singing along with your theme song, you get to play it out?"

"Exactly. It's a different atmosphere."

"Would you say you prefer live shows to TV? Or are they incomparable?"

"Incomparable."

"Alright then, how about this: A fan is able to attend either a Raw or SmackDown airing, or attend a live show. Which would you recommend?"

"Oh, man, I can't, really. If the fan just wants to see some good wrestling and have fun, I'd say a live show. But if the fan wants to see wrestling and story progression and all the lights and excitement, I'd say Raw or SmackDown. I've met fans that say they never go to a TV taping, they only go to live shows. But I've also met fans who say the opposite. So really it's down to what the fan wants out of the show."

Violet smiled and leaned back in her chair. "That's all for now," she said to Steve. Turning to the man seated across from her, her smile widened. "Thanks a lot."

"Oh, no problem at all." Sami nudged his cap back and grinned. "Was that all you wanted?"

"For now. I'm getting a few interviews with different people to compare answers." Making a note on her page of questions to remind Steve to get some footage of the show taking place that night, she lightly rubbed the back of her neck.

"Did you enjoy your day and a half off?" he asked.

"I did," she confirmed with a smile. "But I've got to say, I don't know how you guys do it. I got in Wednesday at about four in the morning, grabbed a few hours of sleep, then went to the Performance Center. The whole afternoon instead of putting my feet up and vegging out like I'd thought I would, I was unpacking and doing laundry. Then yesterday I was double-checking travel plans and packing and… Really, how do you do it?"

"I don't want to say you get used to it, because you really don't, but… You kind of get used to it." Giving no outward sign that he was ready to go, he casually folded his arms over his chest. "So what did you do Wednesday night?"

"Wednesday night?" she chirped, wrinkling her nose at the tone she'd used. Not sure if Finn had already told Sami about their dinner and movie and subsequent sleepover, she moistened her lips. "I stayed in. Ate and watched a movie."

"Finn didn't come over?"

Blinking, she stared at him. "Um… Have you seen Finn today?"

"A couple minutes in the locker room. But he didn't? He said he was going to, and…" He chuckled suddenly, obviously seeing the shock on her face. "I saw him that afternoon."

"Oh. Well, yes, he did come over." How much should she tell him? "We ordered in and watched a movie."

He looked strangely pleased. "Really? That's great."

"I…" At a loss, Violet carelessly waved a hand.

"I get it. None of my business." Sami grinned and pushed himself to his feet. "But I'm glad, just the same."

"Thanks?" she offered.

"I'll see you later," he said. "Oh, and make sure you're out in the audience tonight. You've got to get the full live show experience."

She opened her mouth to reply, but he was already gone. Staring at the open door, she huffed in confusion before turning her attention back to her notes.

"Dinner and a movie, huh?" Steve asked.

"I promise, it was completely PG," she sighed.

"I figured," he chuckled. "He was as jumpy as a virgin when I ran into him in the lobby."

Amused by the mental image the words created, Violet looked to Steve. "Wait, you saw him in the lobby?"

"Yeah, the other day. I told him which room you were in."

Well that explained one mystery. Still, she had no clue how he'd known where she was staying. She hadn't exactly announced her housing plans to everyone. Except for… "…Sami."

"What?" Steve glanced up from his camera.

"Nothing." Sighing, she rose to her feet and stretched. She glanced to her watch then reached for her bag. She had time enough before the next interview to get the raw footage on her laptop. "Can you give me the card?"

The card, in a small plastic case, landed on the table she was using as a makeshift desk. Murmuring her thanks, she dragged her chair to the table and opened her laptop, nodding when Steve told her the camera was set up for the next round. "I'll be heading out in a few to gets some shots of the fans outside."

She was about to answer when she sensed the little hairs on the back of her neck prickling. Reaching to rub her neck, she drew in a breath. Strange, how Sami just mentioning Finn was enough for her to think she could smell the man. She would swear he was standing right behind her. Which was impossible. He wasn't scheduled for one of the live show interviews for another hour—

"Working hard?"

Violet released a brief shriek, jerking so violently her knee banged the edge of the table. Whipping around, she felt her jaw slacken at the sight of Finn. Standing right behind her chair. Unexpected pleasure and the shock of surprise battled briefly, and she suddenly blurted, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." He said it so casually, as though he'd told her what the weather was outside. As though it were perfectly natural for him to seek her out. "You busy?"

"Just getting ready to transfer footage." Smiling as he dragged a chair to the table, she let her eyes meet his. "Are you busy?"

"I've got a few minutes. How's it going, Steve?"

"Pretty good."

Violet glanced back to see he had his camera aimed at Finn. Suspecting he was getting a couple of casual shots, she turned her attention back to Finn, gaze dropping to his lips. She immediately wished it hadn't, because it brought back the memory of those lips against hers. Her cheeks began to warm and she quickly shifted her attention to her laptop, opening the case so she could retrieve the card.

She'd been unable to think of anything but that brief, chaste kiss for hours. While packing, she had gone over every minute detail repeatedly, cursing when she realized she had stuffed her suitcase with only shirts. Even going over the proofs had been fruitless, because she'd kept flipping back to the one of Finn. And staring at his lips. She had somehow been capable of pushing it from her mind once she'd arrived at the arena. But now he was there. Right next to her. She knew that she wouldn't be able to think of anything else now.

And, surprising herself, she voiced the question that had been plaguing her mind. "Why did you kiss me?"

Finn cleared his throat, obviously as surprised by the question as she was. "I… Um…"

She heard movement behind her. Finally looking up from her laptop when she heard the door close, she groaned. Why had she said that in front of Steve? "Oh, God."

"Violet, look at me."

She groaned again, but turned in her seat to do so. And tried very hard to focus on his forehead. "Finn—"

"I wanted to," he said softly. The words brought her attention down to his eyes, and she saw his quick smile.

Why? She wanted to vocalize the word but could only stare at him.

"I couldn't have not kissed you, you know?"

Her heart made a funny little jump in her chest. She couldn't think of an articulate reply, so she merely nodded.

"But… If you don't want me to do it again, I'll—"

"I do," she whispered, surprising herself yet again. "I really do."

"Right now?" he asked, one corner of his mouth turning upward.

"If you like. Or later. Or tomorrow." She couldn't bring herself to actually beg for a kiss. Because how mortifying would that be? "Surprise me, Finn."

"Just like you keep surprising me, _a thaisce_?"

"What—" Distracted when her phone chimed, she reached for it. The reminder she had set for herself. Clearing it, she pushed her chair back and got to her feet.

"Something wrong?"

"No, I just have to get everything ready for the next interview." She didn't have to do anything to the camera except start recording when she was ready. For that she was grateful, because she was leery of using the large piece of equipment. Moving to stand behind it, she made sure the shot was clear.

"Who's next?"

"Roman Reigns." She straightened, looking to Finn. Confused when she saw the brief look of disgust on his face, she reached to tuck the lock of hair – which had fallen out of her ponytail, again – behind her ear. "What?"

"What?" he echoed, looking to her. The disgust was gone, and he was smiling. "Have you worked with him yet?"

"No, I haven't. I was supposed to talk to him Monday but he had to back out at the last minute. We did get to chat for a few minutes, though." With a shrug, she stepped over to pull her chair into place. She was certain she heard Finn mutter something, but when she glanced over to him, his face still held a smile.

"I'd—"

He abruptly stopped when the door opened. Violet turned, smoothing the front of her shirt, and watched Roman Reigns enter the room.

And enter he did. As opposed to his coworkers, who she had noticed tended to stroll in, Roman practically swaggered, much like he did when heading out to the ring. His expression was a glower, and she thought she saw his lips curl as he glanced in Finn's direction. Then he turned his attention on her.

"You the interviewer?" he asked.

She tried very hard to not let the question rankle. Hadn't he said only three days before that he was looking forward to sitting down for an interview with her? Forcing a smile, she nodded. "Yes. Violet Lovell."

"I know I'm early, but I have to get this finished. Make-A-Wish wants me in thirty minutes," he added with another look at Finn.

It was a pointed look, and Violet was momentarily lost. Was she just imagining the animosity? She had to be. She could think of no reason as to why the men would dislike one another. Roman couldn't be upset over his loss Monday night. Could he?

"I'll see you later, Violet," Finn announced, slowly rising to his feet.

Before she could open her mouth to reply, he was brushing past Roman. Confused, she cleared her throat and moved the empty chair back into position. "If you'll get seated, we can start."

He did so, commenting that he hoped the camera was getting his good side. While she stared recording and grabbed her notebook, she noticed that he smoothed hair and straightened his shoulders. She sat, managing to keep her face expressionless as he flexed his muscles. The shirt he wore was practically a size too small. His biceps bulged beneath the short sleeves, and when he lowered his arms she swore she caught a faint aroma of baby oil.

"How—"

"Oh, I don't know if Hunter told you, but there are some things I'm not going to talk about." His expression was almost apologetic. "I don't have time to go over questions with you, so if we get to one that I won't answer, I'll just say so."

"Okay…" she trailed, looking down at the page of notes she had made for the interview. To her, they were general, inoffensive questions. Nothing that a wrestling podcast wouldn't have asked.

"Please, start," he insisted.

Deciding to skip over pleasantries, she uncapped her pen and lifted her head. "When fans hear the name 'Roman Reigns' they usually have two very different reactions. There are positive reactions, of course, but it's impossible to ignore the negative reactions of the crowd. What effect has that had on your work, if any?"

"Oh, baby girl, that doesn't have any effect on me. Any reaction is a good one. I go out and do my job. As long as the fans are making some kind of noise, I know I'm doing good."

"But there has been an obvious push to make you the most recognized face within the company. Don't boos or people chanting that you suck negate that?"

"If there is a push, as you call it, nothing the fans do is going to stop it from happening. They're inconsistent, anyway. One week they love you, the next week they're sick of you."

"True," she agreed. "The fans definitely loved you when you were in The Shield."

He smiled. "They did."

"Was it your decision to keep the look, the feel, and the music after you parted ways with Seth and Dean?" She saw him roll his eyes. "It was only recently that you stopped doing the entrance through the crowd, wasn't it?"

"I didn't see any reason to change everything. Everyone knows me as a member of The Shield. I'm comfortable with what I wear in the ring, and I like the music."

"But Seth and Dean abandoned it all. They both got new music and new looks—"

"I'm not here to talk about Dean and Seth," he interrupted. "Skip all of that."

She looked at her notes and marked through the questions she had wanted to bring up. "I noticed that your eyes are naturally brown just now," she continued, making a quick note that he refused to talk about The Shield. "Why do you wear colored contacts in the ring?"

"I have to stand out."

She almost rolled her eyes. Instead, she nodded and moved into the questions about his matches on Monday night. Keeping to the subject of his work in the ring seemed to be safer, if a little boring for her. She couldn't help noticing that he always stopped to explain a move to her using terms one would to explain the move to someone who never watched wrestling. And he kept calling her 'baby girl', which annoyed her after the second time. Somehow, she kept the questions going until her watch told her that twenty minutes had passed.

"You'll get some footage of me working out, won't you?" he asked when she ended the video and rose to stop the camera. Then, chuckling, he added, "You do know what working out is I hope?"

Jaw dropping, she stared at him for several seconds. Forcing her mouth to close, she inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly. "Yes, I'm sure I'll get footage of you in the gym, probably next week."

"Good. And hey, I can probably give you a few tips. Because you'd definitely get a negative reaction if you walked out in front of the crowd."

"Excuse me?" she gasped.

"Hey, hey, no offense," he said quickly, raising both his hands as he got to his feet.

"Tips from a man that obviously wears Spanx under his vest in the ring," she muttered under her breath, punching the button that would eject the memory card after turning off the camera.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," she replied, managing a breezy tone. "You can go now. I'm sure the Make-A-Wish kids are anxious to meet you."

"Of course they are." He lifted his chin. "Let me know about the workout footage."

She didn't bother answering. He was already out the door. Rolling her eyes, she wrote his name and the date on the card's label before slipping it into a case. She was not looking forward to listening to Roman discuss the importance of working out. Maybe she could persuade Steve into shooting the footage for her without her having to go. Groaning when she realized she would have to meet with the man again to discuss his storyline leading into SummerSlam, she dragged her chair over to the table and sat. She wasn't sure she could handle another interview of listening to him call her 'baby girl' and limiting the questions she could ask.

* * *

"So how was it?"

Mouth full, Finn widened his eyes in Sami's direction and intentionally chewed as slowly as possible. Once he'd washed down the food with water, he sent his friend a questioning look. "How was what?"

"The double feature and Chinese food that turned into ordering in and watching a movie," Sami replied, popping the top of his canned drink. He took a sip while flopping into the chair next to Finn.

"How'd you—"

"Violet told me. So. How was it?"

"When did you see Violet?"

"She had a few questions for me about the difference between live shows and tapings. Well?"

"I think she's asking us all the same questions. She probably wants to be able to show the different opinions." Finn reached for his water.

"Yeah, that's what she was telling me. I told her to be sure she was in the audience tonight. She's never been to a live show, you know."

Finn nodded. She'd told him. "We ordered Italian. A Hitchcock film was coming on, and she had things to unpack still, so we stayed in."

Sami looked at him expectantly. When Finn didn't offer anything else, he cleared his throat. "And?"

"And what?"

"Did you—"

Finn sat up and turned slightly in his seat as he sensed someone walking towards him. He smiled at the sight of Violet, who was holding a small Styrofoam container and a bottle of Gatorade, and was halfway to his feet when she motioned for him to sit back down. He thought he saw a bit of irritation in her eyes, but it was gone by the time she reached the table. Her smile included Sami, then she looked to him, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Sorry to interrupt. I just remembered I still have your shirt. It's in my bag, so don't let me forget to give it back to you, okay?" She transferred the Gatorade to the crook of her elbow and pushed that lock of hair behind her ear.

He felt the blush on his cheeks as Sami cleared his throat behind him. "Yeah, no problem. I left yours at home, but I'll get it to you next week."

"No rush." She smiled again. "I've only got a few minutes before my next interview, so I better get back. See you later. Bye, Sami."

"Bye, Violet," Sami called as she turned and headed out of Catering.

Finn watched her go, smiling when she glanced back and he saw the lock of hair had fallen against her cheek again. Turning his attention back to his food, he stabbed a carrot with his fork. He could feel Sami's questioning gaze on him and studiously ignored it, eating slowly. When a foot connected with his shin he yelped, finally looking at the other man. "What?!"

"You have each other's shirts?" Sami questioned. His lips pulled into a grin. "Man, what happened?"

"I told you what happened."

"I think you skipped over some things, because eating and watching a movie doesn't involve exchanging shirts." Sami leaned forward. "Did you sleep with her?"

His fork fell to his plate. His cheeks burned, and he quickly ran a hand over his face as though that were enough to ward away the reddening. "I… We… She… What difference does it make?"

"It doesn't," Sami promised quickly. "Dude, go for it."

"Christ," Finn groaned.

"Did you stay all night?"

"Yes," he sighed. Because he had. And because lying to Sami was impossible.

"Was it awkward the next morning?"

"No…" Finn scrubbed a hand over his face. Glancing up, he was grateful when Kevin pulled out a chair and plopped down across from him. He would be a welcome distraction.

"So," Kevin began, resting his elbows on the table and smiling. "I hear you took Violet out the other night."

Finn groaned again. He was well aware of Sami's innocent expression even though he didn't glance over to see it. Reaching for his water, he slammed his foot into Sami's shin as a silent warning for the man to keep quiet. He ignored his friend's hiss of pain, as well as Kevin's expectant silence.

"Well?"

Sighing, Finn nodded. "But we didn't go out."

"They stayed in," Sami added. "Dinner and a movie."

"What movie?" Kevin asked.

"A Hitchcock film." Finn nudged his plate away, his appetite gone. "And before you ask, it was nice. We talked before the food came. I had fun."

"Fun," Sami repeated with a chuckle.

"Are you going to see her again?" Kevin's expression was serious.

"I just saw her two minutes ago…"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I'm going to see her again," he answered. He didn't want to have to wait until their days off to do so, though, and wondered how he could squeeze a date into the few available free hours he had. Sending Sami a warning glance when he heard him draw breath to speak, he picked up his water for a sip.

"Is she staying at a hotel in Orlando?" Kevin asked.

Finn shook his head, but Sami was already answering, so he drank more of his water. When he finished the bottle, Sami was still talking. With a roll of his eyes over how much the man knew about where Violet was staying, Finn pushed his chair back.

Sami stopped speaking in mid-sentence. "See you later," he said with a wave, then turned his attention back to Kevin.

After throwing away his trash, Finn headed in the direction of the locker room. It was as good a time as any to get a shower in. He needed to track down his partner and opponents for that night's match so they could go over the plan too. Rounding a corner, he stopped quickly to keep from walking into the back of a man. He sidestepped, muttering an apology, then turned back when he recognized Steve. He was taking photos of the crates lined along the wall.

"Finn," he greeted as he lowered his camera.

"Interesting shots you're getting," Finn commented, leaning against a crate.

"Violet was telling me that fans like peeks backstage. We're not sure how we're going to use them in the documentary just yet. I told her it would be a good idea to check with Hunter about doing a backstage tour." Steve adjusted the strap around his neck. "Because there's so much more going on back here than I ever knew about."

"Are you a fan?"

"A little. I used to watch all the time when I was younger. Then my favorite guys started retiring and, well…" Steve shrugged. "I try to keep up with who the current champions are, but that's about it. I've got to say, though, this week has renewed my interest."

"Just listening to Violet talk about it should be enough for that," Finn chuckled, recalling the woman's animation when they'd discussed the current product. Her excitement over the slow but sure changes in the women's division had been palpable, not to mention her enthusiasm about the upcoming draft. She'd managed to renew his own anticipation, and he was actually living through it.

"That's for sure." Steve looked to his watch. "I need to head out to the arena. I wanted to get some shots of the setup for the show."

"See you later then," Finn told him, pushing away from the crate.

And, even though he'd decided he would shower, he found himself going the way he'd come, making his way toward the room Violet and Steve were using. To his embarrassment he saw that Steve was going that was as well, and Finn let his steps slow, in case the two were going to be discussing business.

"I'm heading out to get shots of the arena, but I got to talking to…"

Finn hesitated in the corridor as Steve mentioned a few names that he vaguely recognized as members of the crew. Brazenly eavesdropping as the man went on to say he'd made arrangements to travel with the three men.

"You'll be okay on your own, won't you?" Steve asked.

"Of course." Even though he couldn't see her, Finn could tell she was smiling. "You have fun and do some male bonding."

They discussed travel a bit more, and Finn learned that Hunter had arranged for WWE to pay the rental car fees. A sudden idea struck him as he listened to Violet assure that she could handle the trip alone. Lightly drumming his fingers against his thigh, he pondered the idea for a moment longer, and looked up in surprise when Steve exited the room. They nodded at each other and Finn was certain he saw Steve give him a knowing look before heading down the corridor. Still evaluating his idea, he turned to enter the room, instinctively closing the door behind him.

She was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the camera. He wasn't sure what, exactly, struck him and caused him to remain still and silent. The lighting was the same as it had been earlier. The temperature of the room was just as it had been. Perhaps it was the pensive expression on her face. or the way her fingers twirled that lock of hair that always danced against her cheek. He stared at her for what seemed hours, even as he was certain it was barely seconds. Then she was standing and he was crossing the room towards her. she turned, and the pensiveness disappeared when she saw him. He saw her lips start to curve into a smile. She murmured something but he barely heard her voice. All he could focus on was her mouth. And how desperately he needed to kiss her.

Her cheeks were velvet beneath his fingertips, that lock of hair the softest silk. It occurred to him, just as he felt her breath dance over his cheek, that she may not want his kiss. Her blue eyes were wide, but he saw no fear or reluctance in them. In fact, he would have sworn he saw hopefulness. Recalling how soft her lips had been against his when he'd given her that chaste kiss before leaving, he curled the lock of hair around his finger and covered her mouth with his.

Her lips were cool. They were as soft as he'd remembered, though. Supple. She moved closer, hands resting on his chest, and he almost moaned in relief. His fingers slid into her hair as he dared to allow himself a small taste. This time he did moan. She tasted of citrus, as though she'd just bitten into the ripest of oranges. Her fingers clutched at his shirt before dancing up to clasp his neck. Immersed in warmth and softness and the decadent taste of her lips, he let the fingers of one hand trail over her jaw and then across her throat.

They parted simultaneously. Her fingers dragged over his neck, then grasped at his shoulders. He felt her tremble, heard each sharp inhale and exhale, and opened his eyes to gauge her expression. Her glasses were crooked, her lips were parted. Her cheeks were flushed. She looked surprised and pleased and in complete disarray.

She looked utterly beautiful. And he knew. It struck him suddenly, the realization that she was the one person he'd met that was worth the effort. The one that he knew he would never mind making time for. The one that it wouldn't be an effort to make time for after all.

"You okay?" he asked when her hands dropped. Reluctantly letting go of her, he trailed his tongue over his lips, eyebrows lifting as she immediately sat back down in the chair.

"Fine," she whispered. Clearing her throat, she straightened her glasses. Her eyes were still wide and wild. Her hair was mussed but she didn't reach to smooth it, instead dropping her hands to her lap and staring at him.

"I heard you're riding alone tonight," he said, settling in the chair across from her. He stretched out his legs, watching her press her lips together as their knees bumped. The tiny movement from her caused his heart to stutter in his chest.

"Y-you did?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah. I kind of overheard it just now." He gestured to the closed door, and saw her cheeks darken. Leaning forward, he drew in a breath. "You sure you're okay?"

"No—Yes—Maybe," she amended. She gave her head a small shake. "But you were saying?"

"Oh, right. I'm supposed to be riding with Kevin and Sami, but I thought I'd ride with you."

"Why?"

"Because I can't do this with Kevin and Sami," he explained, leaning further and pressing a kiss to her cheek. He heard her suck in a breath and smiled before tilting his head to kiss the corner of her mouth.

"Sami seems kind of affectionate, he probably wouldn't mind," she murmured.

He laughed at that and was pleased to see her smile. "There's just one problem with that, _a thaisce_."

"And what might that be?" she inquired as he leaned back.

"I don't want to kiss Sami."

"I'm sure he'll be heartbroken if he finds out. But… You're saying you want to kiss me?"

"Are you saying you don't want to be kissed?"

"If I didn't I sure as hell wouldn't have let you kiss me," she muttered. "I'm just not used to being kissed."

"That's a pity, because you deserve to be kissed and often."

Her eyes widened. Her lips pulled into a funny little smile. "And by someone who knows how?"

"Yes," he answered, a bit bewildered by the way her lips twitched as though she were holding back laughter.

"And I suppose you think you're the proper person?" She giggled, and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.

"What's so funny?"

She shook her head, eyes twinkling with merriment. Shoulders rising as she drew in a breath, she released it slowly and lowered her hand. "You said… The bit about deserving to be kissed and often? It's exactly what Rhett said to Scarlett."

Finn's mind went blanked. "Who?"

"Rhett Butler? Scarlett O'Hara?" She grunted when he continued to stare at her blankly. " _Gone With the Wind_?!"

"Is that an old movie?"

"Only one of the most epic films of its time. It was based on a book and…" She sighed and gave her head a little shake. "Anyway, he kisses her and she tells him to stop, and he tells her she should be kissed and often, by a man that knows how."

"Smart man, this Rhett," he mused. "Are you anything like this Scarlett?"

"Not in the least. She was a bit obsessed with this other man, and couldn't see that Rhett loved her to death. Even after she married Rhett she stayed crazy over the other guy." Smiling, she leaned forward in her seat. "I'll have to get you to watch it with me sometime."

"It's a date." Unable to resist, he caught her lips in a quick kiss. "And you don't mind me riding with you tonight?"

"It's a date," she whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads, follows, favorites, and reviews! You guys seriously make my day. :)**

Chapter Six

Strange, that she had shared a bed with the man and had no qualms, but was nervous about sharing a car. Violet wondered at her own reasoning as she watched Finn stow his suitcase in the trunk of the rental car. He had already put her things in for her. Enjoying the cool breeze that drifted across the rear parking area of the arena, she moved towards the driver's side, stopping next to the door when she remembered that Finn had the keys.

Would they be able to agree on music? Would he prefer absolute silence? She knew he had to be exhausted after his long day and the grueling match he'd had, but would he stay awake or fall asleep as soon as she pulled onto the highway?

"You're taking the first shift right?" he asked while closing the trunk.

She turned just in time to see the keys arcing through the air. She had to lean back to catch them before they could land on the pavement, and nodded as she opened the door. Half-listening as he returned called-out goodbyes and see-you-laters from his coworkers, she adjusted the seat and started the car. Once he was inside and situated, she reached for her seatbelt. "I'm going to stop at a gas station before we hit the highway."

"Fine by me, I could do with a cup of tea."

She wondered if the gas station would even have hot tea. Focusing on getting out of the parking lot, she paid no attention as he fiddled with the radio. He settled back just as she reached a stop light.

"This alright?"

Recognizing the R&B song playing, she nodded. "What kind of music do you like?"

"This, rap, rock… A little bit of everything, really. When you're the youngest one in the car you have to listen to what everyone else wants to hear, so I guess I learned to keep an open mind." He chuckled. "Or ear, in my case. What about you?"

"A little bit of everything," she answered with a smile. "I guess my all-time favorite would have to be the old pop standards. Sinatra and Dean Martin and the like."

"What's your favorite song by Sinatra?"

"I can't choose a favorite," she groaned, eyes on the gas stations up ahead. Choosing the largest, she got into the proper lane. "Probably _Always_ or _New York, New York_."

"Why them?"

"Is this Twenty Questions?" Grinning, she steered the car into a spot near the front of the store. " _Always_ because it's just a beautiful love song. _New York, New York_ because it makes me smile."

Finn unbuckled his seatbelt but didn't reach to open his door. "That's my favorite song of his, too."

"Really? Why?"

"Because it makes you smile." He leaned towards her, and his lips brushed over hers. "You have a beautiful smile, so anything that makes it show up is my favorite."

"Ah." It was all she could coherently manage. Opening the door, she moved to get out, cursing under her breath when she was held back by the seatbelt.

It was late when they reached the hotel. Later than Violet had thought it would be, at least. Gathering the little bit of trash they'd accumulated during the trip while Finn climbed out and stretched, she wondered if the lateness had to do with their stops. Once to switch drivers, twice to grab a snack from an all-night convenience store, and once more to get gas. She chewed on her bottom lip, which still tingled from his frequent kisses, and finally climbed out, tying the little bag of trash.

They entered the lobby, greeted by a blast of cold air that raised goosebumps on Violet's arms. Aware of the curious look from the desk clerk, she slipped her hand free of Finn's, eyes drifting around the lobby as he approached the desk. She hung back, reading the large sign announcing a convention taking place over the weekend.

Noticing that Finn was thanking the clerk and stepping away from the desk, she approached, sending him a smile of thanks when he reached for the handle of her suitcase. "Good…morning," she finished after a glance at her watch. It was after two now. "I have a single room reserved. Violet Lovell."

The clerk, voice annoyingly perky and smiling the tight smile of one who'd dealt with the public for years, returned the greeting and began typing on the computer. "I'm sorry, your room was given to someone else."

Violet was certain she'd heard wrong. "Someone else?"

"Your reservation was only valid until one thirty, and there was a waiting list."

The perky voice was grating on her nerves. Never one to cause a scene, though, she nodded and released her breath slowly. "That's fine. Just give me whatever you have."

"I'm sorry, but our last room was just taken."

Violet stared at the woman, wondering why Finn's reservation had still been valid. Why had she agreed to Hunter's insistence that WWE's travel department handle her and Steve's hotel and rental reservations? Where in the hell was she going to sleep? "But…"

"What's wrong?" Finn asked.

She'd forgotten he was still standing there. "They gave away my room."

"It's company policy."

Violet opened her mouth to suggest just where the clerk could put that company policy, only to snap it shut when Finn gave a casual shrug.

"You'll just stay with me," he said. He turned to the clerk and requested another keycard, seemingly unaware of Violet's feeble attempts to argue. While the clerk chirped that she would be delighted to prepare another key, he turned to smile at Violet. "Stop gaping like a fish."

"But you need your sleep," she muttered.

"So do you."

"But—"

"We've shared one bed already," he reminded her softly. Enthusiastically thanking the clerk when a keycard was handed over, he nodded for Violet to take it, then headed in the direction of the elevators.

Grunting, Violet took the card with a muttered thanks to the clerk, then hurried after him. The man was insane. Yes, they'd shared a bed, but that had been different. Hadn't it? Realizing she still held the little bag with the trash from the car, she threw it into the trashcan near the elevator before stepping on. "You really don't mind?"

"Not at all." His smile was warm and miraculously dazzling considering how tired he must be. "I liked waking up next to you."

"I liked that, too," she murmured. Returning his smile, she leaned against his side. "Thank you."

Once they reached the room, she tried not to show her delight in the fact there was only one bed. One glorious, king-sized bed. When he insisted she take the bathroom first she gathered a few things and did so, taking a quick shower to wash the day's grime away. When she exited he had stripped down to just his shorts and was plugging up his phone. His gaze roved her figure and she bit her lip, hesitating before she reached the bed.

"It won't bite you," he teased, catching her with one arm. His kiss left her breathless, then he was stepping away. "Get to bed."

"Yes, sir," she intoned with a mock salute.

But she barely had time to plug up her phone, apply lip balm to her lips, and drag a comb through her hair before he was back. She opted to leave her hair down and moved to the far side of the bed. Even though she doubted she would read even a paragraph, instinct had made her take her book with her. She placed it on the nightstand, aware of the rustling as he changed clothes. Taking off her glasses, she placed them atop the book and pulled the covers back. They climbed into bed at the same time, and she didn't hold back a small laugh. Settling in, she couldn't help but watch him as he did the same.

"Finn?" she murmured, pleased when she saw his hand sliding across the space between them.

"Violet?" he returned, fingers grazing her arm.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He was lying on his side, head propped up with one hand, the other trailing down to find hers. After a moment, he looked to her. "Violet?"

"Finn?" she returned, biting back a grin.

"Good night kiss?" he requested.

Like he had to ask. Sliding closer to him, she met his lips tenderly. "Good night," she whispered, shivering when he released her hand and tucked his arm around her.

"Another," he whispered.

She acquiesced, because she longed for another as well. Then she requested another. And another, until she'd lost count.

"You taste like oranges," he murmured between kisses.

Violet struggled to keep a clear head, but it was impossible. She wanted this, she realized, heart starting to pound in her chest. She wanted him. It didn't matter that she may never see him again after the end of her weeks with the company, even though that thought saddened her. Tilting her head back when his lips moved to her throat, she felt his hand move up from her waist. A gasp died in her throat when his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt. His fingertips swirled over her skin. Then, suddenly, they were stroking the underside of her breast.

His lips found hers again, muffling her moan as he gently cupped her breast. She felt him smile against her lips when his thumb began to caress her hardening nipple. Marveling at the sharp longing she now felt deep in the pit of her abdomen, she actually whined when he pulled away.

"Shh," he soothed, offering a tender kiss. When he leaned back again, he gently guided her into a seated position, then pulled her shirt off. Her first instinct was to cover herself, to shield the size of her stomach, but she was struck motionless by the hungry gaze that roved over her.

Emboldened by the way he licked his lips, she lay back, biting the inside of her lip. He peeled off his t-shirt and tossed it aside then reached for her. The sensation of warm, solid muscle against her bare skin caused the sharp longing to increase, and she tried her best to draw in a clear breath as his lips blazed a trail from her shoulder to the center of her chest to one peaked nipple. He licked, suckled, even nibbled, seemingly not caring that he was driving her crazy. Each time she writhed, each time she arched, he followed, until she cried out in frustration. Releasing her nipple, he pressed his forehead to the center of her chest, and she watched the way his body moved with each breath he took.

He placed a hand next to her head and leaned over her. "What's wrong?"

"I… Nothing," she insisted.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"God no," she blurted, surprising herself with the loudness of her voice. Wrinkling her nose, she relaxed when he chuckled, and leaned up to meet him for a kiss. "I'm just a little nervous," she admitted.

"Why?"

Good god, like she could answer that without making a fool of herself. "Well," she said, distracted by the way his fingers traced an invisible line from her throat to her shoulder. "I just… I'm not very experienced." That earned her a raised eyebrow and she sighed. "At all. As in, you know… Things might get a little bloody."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked softly.

"Um… Just when should I have told you? Because it's not something that you advertise, really. I mean—"

Silenced by his kiss, she brought her hands up to his face, her anxiety beginning to slip away. His kiss was tender, almost reverent, but no less intense than his earlier kisses had been. She was comforted by the weight of him over her. By the feel of his legs tangling with hers.

"So," she whispered when he broke the kiss and she felt abdomen ripple against hers, "I take it you're not bothered by a little blood?"

"Not in the least," he promised with a chuckle. He kissed her again, quickly, then pulled away.

Violet barely had time to register his movements and in the span of a few heartbeats felt him begin to pull at her sleep pants. They slid down her legs easily, and she stupidly thought how glad she was she'd shaved her legs while in the shower earlier. She bit down hard on her bottom lip when he kissed the inside of her ankle. His kisses moved upward, stealing what was left of her breath each time his lips grazed her skin. By the time his mouth skimmed her hip she was panting.

"I want to taste you," he announced. She whined at the thought – she wasn't a complete idiot – and he chuckled against her hip. "But we'll do that next time, yeah?"

Next time. He was already planning on there being a _next time_. Bless him, she thought, nodding. She would have suggested he wait and see if there were anything about her worth a next time, but his hand gently cupped her and she lost her train of thought. Blinking in surprise when his face loomed over hers, she threaded her fingers together at the back of his neck.

"You're so wet, _a thaisce_ …"

"I know," she whispered, arching against his hand. He was stroking her, touches as soft as a feather, drawing a gasp from her. Loosening her fingers, she spread them over his shoulders. She wanted to touch him. To learn as much as she could about his body. He seemed to understand, lifting up slightly, and she heard his sigh as her fingers danced down his chest. Her hands met the waistband of his shorts and she hesitated, momentarily forgetting her course of action when his fingers moved without warning. "Oh my god," she whined, clutching at his waist.

The finger inside her moved slowly. She was vaguely aware of his whispered encouragements, or perhaps they were reassurances. Just when she grew accustomed to the sensation, just when she shakily began to push at his shorts, another finger entered her. His mouth closed over hers, swallowing her soft cry, and she could only hold on.

"So fucking tight," he growled, long fingers hooking inside her and remaining still.

"Finn," she whispered, arching.

His fingers stayed still for so long she began to fear he would never move. Then she felt them slowly begin to withdraw. She focused on the feeling, enjoying it more and more each time the digits pumped into her again. Her body grew overly warm and she was able to recognize that at the other signs of an approaching orgasm. Moaning, she quickly shoved his shorts down, hoping to give him pleasure as well.

He was hard and heavy in her palm. She explored him as best she could with one hand, trailing her fingers over the velvety flesh. Sweeping her thumb over the tip, she heard his strangled moan and froze.

Only to cry out when his thumb circled her clit without warning.

"Violet," he breathed, and she found the plea in his eyes.

Nodding, she drew in a breath, whining again as he removed his fingers. She closed her eyes while he moved away, half-fearing the separation of their bodies would give him an opportunity to think of reasons why he shouldn't be intimate with her. Biting her lip as the bed dipped, she opened her eyes to see him opening his suitcase. Confused, she pushed up onto her elbows and watched, relief sweeping through her as he returned to the bed. He'd gotten condoms, she saw, smiling faintly at the sight of the packets being tossed onto the nightstand. He held onto one, tucking it between his lips as he fully removed his shorts. Staring at his fully nude body, she felt a rush of mixed emotions. Anticipation, desire, warmth, and, surprisingly, calmness.

She wasn't afraid. She had a feeling that were it any other man but him, she would be. But there was something so comforting about Finn. Even if he did have a tendency to make her heart skip over crucial beats and his kisses made her knees forget how to support her body. She'd known him less than a week, but he already knew her so well.

Boosting herself upright, she shifted onto her knees and moved to the edge of the bed, a sigh passing her lips at the sight of him. A fine sheen of perspirations shone on his chest, and when she placed her hands there she felt the steady, rapid pound of his heart. She leaned in to kiss him, giggling when her lips met the condom packet. He plucked it away, grinning, lips meeting hers in a tender kiss. One hand slid into her hair, combing through the waves to the small of her back. Guided by the pressure of his hand, she moved back, nipping at his bottom lip as she lay down. He followed her, settling between her legs.

He kissed her so thoroughly she forgot everything. She was hazily aware of his hands moving over her body, guiding her legs around his waist, lifting her hips. She tensed when he reached between their bodies, but he coaxed her into another kiss, and she felt him tremble.

A brief flash of pain. Then he was cupping her face, whispering against her cheek between kisses. Grabbing hold of his wrists, she held on, holding back her instinctive yelp. He moved his lips to her ear, gently shaking his wrists free, then threaded his fingers with hers.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's doesn't hurt anymore," she promised, squeezing his hands. It was hardly the agony she'd read in books and heard about from her friends as a teenager. She felt no more pain. Instead, she felt a strange fullness. And as he lay over her, clutching her hands and breathing in her ear, she began to crave more.

He moved slowly, as though afraid he would hurt her. She whispered his name, following it with a gasp when he pushed deeper, the sensation making her body tremble. His lips curved against her temple. "Good?"

"So good." She began to fill overheated and turned her head to suck in a cool breath. "Can you…"

"What?" he breathed when her voice faded into a whine. "Can I what? Feel how tight you are? Feel you squeezing my dick? What?"

"Fuck," she moaned, tightening her legs at his waist. "Faster. Please, Finn…"

He went still, and she could feel his body grow taut. Releasing her hands, he pushed upright. Violet watched him in awe, gaze trailing from his rippling abdomen to his sweaty chest to the teeth clutching his bottom lip. His eyes were practically silver, his short hair a spiked mess. One hand grabbed hold of her hip as the other brushed beads of perspiration from his forehead. It then fell to her chest, and she could feel it over the throb of her heart. "Faster?"

She nodded, a shiver flowing down her spine when he rolled his hips. What had she been about to say? Blinking in hopes it would return her memory, she finally nodded. "It… It feels so good slow," she managed, breath catching in her throat briefly. "I just… I want to see how it feels fast."

Finn's smirk sent another shiver down her spine. "We'll find out," he murmured, palm sliding over her breast. His fingers gave her nipple a quick pinch before he slid his hand to her other hip.

Violet's breath caught as his hips began a fluid rhythm. Her own began to rise to meet him, somehow guiding him deeper into her. She noted his sounds of pleasure and, emboldened, dug her heels into the backs of this thighs. Her hands groped at the sheets beneath her, fingers clawing until she gripped handfuls. She worked to draw in a clear breath, though it proved impossible when his fingers whispered over her skin. A quick inhale brought her his scent. She released it in a rush while his fingers continued to dance, teasing, until they glided over her clit. "Oh…"

"Better?" he asked. When she nodded, squirming, licked his lips and started to rub her clit rapidly, matching the swift thrusts of his hips.

Pressing her knees tighter to his sides, she tried her best to hold onto the last shreds of her self-control. They began to slip away, though, when he whispered her name. His thick whisper, joining the fingers that worked furiously and the bed-shaking motions of his body, nudged her body into an inferno. The flames surged around her, snatching her breath away, leaving her incapable of anything beyond a ragged gasp. She began to writhe, tears welling in her eyes when her body started to quake. Managing a meager breath, she held it, only to let it out in a sharp cry.

Several curses fell past his lips while she continued to tremble. Then he was leaning forward, hands finding hers and holding on. His kiss was bruising, and he slammed forward with such force she squealed. Going rigid, he squeezed her hands tightly, her name an uneven hiss.

She gasped for breath, not minding the weight of him as he slumped over her. Able to feel the pounding of his heart, and touched that it matched her own, she pulled one hand free and cupped the back of his head. Her legs loosened from his waist and slid down over his.

After an eternity, just as her breathing became normal, he rolled to her side. "Jesus," he groaned, and groping the bit of space between them. It slid over hers, squeezing, his fingers threading between hers. When he lifted her hand and softly grazed her knuckles with his lips she shifted to face him, unable to hide the wince of discomfort. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Just a little tender," she murmured, smiling when he gave her hand a gentle tug. Curling close to his side, she enjoyed the warmth of his body. "That was amazing."

"Was it?" he asked softly. He released her hand and tucked his arm around her, his other hand reaching to smooth her hair.

"I didn't expect… I mean, I've heard first-time horror stories over the years. And I didn't really expect to…" She paused, mulling over the proper term. "Have an orgasm."

"…You're welcome," he whispered after a moment. She caught the smirk before it left his face and rolled her eyes.

"Good to know your ego is as big as your cock," she muttered playfully.

He snorted, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "It's not that big."

"Your ego?" she inquired. "Or your cock?"

Finn laughed, lightly cupping her chin and guiding her head back so he could offer a tender kiss. Once the levity had passed, he softly caressed her cheek. "Was it good for you, _a thaisce_?"

"It was," she assured him. "Better than I thought it would be, really. Amazing, to be precise. I imagined a lot of pain but there was hardly any, you know? And to be honest, I never thought a man would want me like that…"

He was nodding and smiling as she spoke, though the smile faded at her last statement.

"And I honestly didn't expect the orgasm," she went on. Feeling the need to be upright, she pushed away, reaching to gather her hair. She parted it and began to braid it, wondering just how long the glow of their intimacy would stay with her. "I mean, yeah, I wanted one, but—"

"Violet," he interrupted with a soft sigh, draping one arm over his face. "Can we talk about this later when my body's remembered how to breathe normally?"

Blushing, she understood the implication. She supposed she should ask if it was good for him, too. If she'd pleased him. But that had been a little obvious. So, staying quiet, she continued to braid her hair even though it was a ridiculous thing to do. In a moment or two she would slip out of bed and go take a shower. But it occupied her, filled her strange need to do something. Letting the long braid flop over her shoulder, she was about to tell him she was going to shower when he sat up.

He got out of bed, one hand reaching between his legs. She was confused at first, then realized he was dealing with the condom. Biting her lip, she watched him disappear into the bathroom. He was back in seconds, and she smiled up at him as he approached the bed. "C'mon," he said, taking her hand and guiding her to her feet. "Let's take a shower and go to bed, okay?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the _amazing_ reviews! Hope you continue to enjoy.**

Chapter Seven

Though wiped out from his activities the night before, Finn woke up feeling well-rested. His body ached, as it always did, but there was an underlying sensation of satisfaction. Keenly aware of the soft body curled close to his side, and the waves of hair cascading over his arm, he smiled as he opened his eyes. Violet slept on, her even breaths caressing his chest, her arm draped casually over him.

He stretched out his legs, sighing contentedly, and carefully reached for his phone on the nightstand to check the time. Once he had done so he settled back with another sigh. He had at least two hours before he had to start getting ready for the day. Longer, if he opted to wait until he got to the arena to eat and shower.

He wanted her again. It was impossible to deny that, considering that each little ripple of her breath over his skin made him more and more aware of every place their bodies touched. She was soft and plush and warm. Her hair was a curtain of apple-scented silk spilling down her back and over her shoulder. Glancing down, he saw that lock of hair lay against her cheek. He reached for it, curling it around his finger, and was rewarded with a soft hum from her.

She shifted, tilting her head back. "Hey," she murmured.

The arm draped across him stretched, and he felt her fingers dance over his skin. "Hey," he murmured in return, feeling the loss of her arm when she reached to push her hair back. "Sleep well?"

"Mm-hmm." She stretched, toes grazing his leg, and her soft whine brought memories of the night before to mind.

That first, almost panicked round in bed. The shower, where her whines and moans had rung in his ears while he tasted her. The slow, languid lovemaking, when he'd learned just how sensitive her nipples were. Memories crashed in his mind and all they did was make him realize how badly he wanted to know more about her body.

"Do you have to get up?" she asked.

"Not yet." Letting go of her hair, he allowed his fingers to trail down. They circled her nipple a few times before grazing the hardened bud, and her breathy moan seemed to come from the depths of her lungs. He recalled her mentioning tenderness, though, and paused. "Are you still sore?"

She shook her head and leaned up for a quick kiss. "I feel amazing."

"Yeah, you really do," he agreed enthusiastically.

"Sweet talker," she chuckled. Her fingers swept over his chest, grazing his nipples before gliding lower. He watched her hand slip beneath the sheet covering his lower half, biting his tongue has her palm dragged over him. "You remember how you went down on me last night?"

Did he ever. "Which time?" he murmured, gliding his hand down to her hip. He made sure to drag the sheet down as well. She stretched her legs out and once she relaxed he cupped her thigh and guided her over him.

"Finn, I'm too—"

"Hush," he admonished as she settled over him. He saw the concern in her eyes and shook his head. She was far from too heavy, but he wasn't sure just how to articulate that thought. "Now… Which time?"

"Which time wha—Oh." Smiling, she sat up, her hair tumbling past her shoulders in tousled waves. He watched the locks shift and settle and wondered why she always wore it up. "The second time. After the shower."

Gazing up at her, he felt his lips curve into a smile while he tucked one arm behind his head. "Yeah, I remember. What about it?"

Her cheeks darkened to a beautiful shade of pink. "I really, really liked that thing you did with your tongue. When you…" She puckered her lips in thought. "Did this."

Enthralled, he watched her lift his hand from her thigh. She raised it to her mouth, lips whispering over his palm. Surprised at the delight that began coursing through him when her tongue flickered over the pad of his middle finger, he drew in a ragged breath. "You liked that, did you?"

"Mm-hmm." Violet nipped at the tip of his finger, cheeks darkening even more. "It felt incredible."

"I'll have to remember that for the next time," he decided. If he closed his eyes, he could remember the taste of her on his tongue. The sweetness with just a hint of spice. And he was certain that her little gasping moans were forever etched in his brain. He trailed his fingertips over her lips before gently cupping her neck and pulling her down. Meeting her with a kiss, he sighed at the plushness of her breasts against his chest. The silky waves of her hair fell forward as her lips parted and he inhaled the faint aroma of her floral shampoo. His fingers briefly tangled in her hair but he extricated them, trailed them down her back.

"Finn," she breathed, and he could feel it. The heat and wetness against his cock nudged him from playful teasing to full-blown desire. The hands on his shoulders tightened their grip. He slipped one hand between them, fingers seeking and teasing until she broke the kiss with a whine, and lost all coherence.

"Fuck," he gasped, flopping back against the pillows a lifetime later. Panting, body drenched with sweat, he caught the satisfied expression on Violet's face as she rolled off him to lie at his side. Closing his eyes, he shivered at the loss of her warmth, one hand blindly groping to pull the sheet over their bodies. But she was scooting away already. He could feel the space between them growing and, sighing, opened his eyes. "Where are you going?"

"Shower," she answered, looking over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were still dark and sparkling with passion. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips a bit swollen. When she stood, he saw the pale red imprints of his fingers on her hips.

He supposed he should apologize for those. And for the mark of his palms on her backside. She turned, and he could only smile. "I'll be right in."

She nodded and headed into the bathroom, pink cheeks bouncing enticingly. He took a moment to make sure he could move normally before reaching for the sheet to clean himself. When he reached the bathroom she was wiping her thighs with a towel.

For some reason that triggered something in his brain and he thought of the condom that remained, unused, on the nightstand. "I didn't mean to—"

"I'm on the Pill," she interrupted, reaching for the glass of water resting on the sink. "I have been for years."

"Um…" That raised quite a few questions. Questions his sex-fogged brain couldn't articulate at the moment. So he settled for a simple one. "Why?"

"Why?" She rolled her eyes and leaned to turn the water on in the shower. "I was a late bloomer, so to speak. When I was sixteen I still hadn't started my period, so the doctor put me on the Pill to give it a kick. Then once I started, it was irregular and my hormone levels were up and down, so I began taking the Pill to keep my cycle regular."

"And are you?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"Regular? Yes. Second week of the month."

That was good to know. He supposed. His brain struggled to remember the current date and he felt a large amount of relief when he realized they were past the second week. Following her into the shower, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before she ducked beneath the water. The forgotten condom left his mind, and he moved into the intricate, clumsy dance of showering with a companion.

"You're not worried about it, are you?" she asked while they toweled off. Bent at the waist, she wrapped a towel around her hair and slowly straightened. "I mean, I've never been with anyone, so I don't have… Well, anything."

"I don't either," he promised. He tucked the towel around his waist, not liking the brief frown that marred her features. "I haven't gone bareback in years, and—"

"Ew, is that what it's called?" Her nose wrinkled. "That's disgusting."

"I don't make the words, _a thaisce_." Chuckling, he stepped aside so she could get another towel.

"It's gross, though. It's not like you mounted a horse without a saddle."

"True," he agreed, taking the towel from her and wiping the droplets of water from her shoulders. "You were the one doing the riding this morning."

"I didn't hear you complaining…" One finger swiped over his chest. "But you sure as hell were bucking like a wild bronco…"

"And you stayed on," he reminded, kissing the wavering line of freckles over her shoulder.

"You sure? Because I remember soaring in midair at some point," she whispered.

With a hearty groan, he kissed the side of her neck. "You're killing me, _a thaisce_ …"

"What are you – Really? Already?" Her voice held a trace of wonder that was usually reserved for Christmas movies. Unsteady hands tugged at the towel wrapped around her hair, and he was inundated with the scent of her shampoo.

Unabashed, he leaned against her, pinning her between his hips and the counter. "If I had time, I'd…" He was distracted by her wild-eyed expression in the mirror. Smirking, he wrapped his arms around her. Placing a kiss to the crown of her head, he met her gaze in the mirror. "You know who's to blame, don't you?"

"Well it's not _me_ ," she snorted. Her jeer turned into a gasp when he caught her shoulders and whirled her around to face him.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Finn, come on. Nobody wants me—"

"Not want you?" He shook his head. "How could anyone not want you? You're… You don't even see it. Do you?"

"See what?" Violet whispered.

"You have no idea what you are. You're beautiful. Yes, _beautiful_ ," he insisted when she opened her mouth to argue. "With your little upturned nose and that one dimple and that damned bit of hair that's always touching your cheek. And that smile…" While he spoke, he touched the things he pointed out as lightly as possible, letting his fingers hesitate on her bottom lip until her mouth curved into a faint smile. "That smile lights up whichever city you're in."

"Stop," she breathed.

"You don't even realize it, and that makes you even more beautiful. Those freckles you hate? I love them already." His thumb brushed the smattering of freckles on her cheek. "I see a new one every time I look at you. Like this one here…" He indicated the one almost at the corner of her right eye. "It's in the shape of a heart. And this line of them on your shoulder. They're like a fucking map of your body and I can't wait for the day I have it memorized."

"Jesus, Finn," she sniffled.

"I don't know who tore you down until you felt worthless, but they were wrong. Didn't last night show you how desirable you are?" he asked, brushing her sudden tears away before they could fall. "Or the wee hours of the morning? Or just a few minutes ago? Fucking hell, I want you again already."

She was shaking her head. And crying. Or was she laughing? She had to be laughing, because she was smiling. At least, he hoped she was smiling.

She surprised him by grabbing his shoulders and tugging him down. Her kiss was sweet, tender, broken by small giggles that bubbled up from her chest.

"You're wonderful," she murmured after a moment, resting her forehead against his. Her fingers moved restlessly through his damp hair. "One in a million, even, after that speech."

"It wasn't a speech," he grunted.

"It was practically a full-blown promo. All that was missing was the mic drop," she teased. "And I promise to try and remember it when I start to feel worthless."

"Then we'll just have to make sure you never feel worthless," he whispered after she had kissed him again.

* * *

Steve was already in their designated room by the time Violet arrived at the venue with Finn. She greeted him warmly, placing a cup of fresh coffee next to him before unpacking her things. While waiting for her laptop to come to life, she glanced over his shoulder at his screen, rolling her eyes when she saw he was viewing her interview with Roman Reigns.

"This guy is a first-rate ass," Steve muttered with a shake of his head.

"That may be true, but he's…" Violet flicked her gaze to the closed door. Then, just to be safe, she lowered her voice. "He's kind of the top guy right now. So…"

"So we'll edit it to make him look like a prince," Steve finished. "After the crack he made about working out, I'd complain to Hunter if I were you."

"Shit, that was on there?" Violet groaned and settled in her seat.

"It was. Look, kid, I'll take care of him, okay?"

"I can handle it, Steve."

"Maybe you can, but he's a dick and I don't want him around you—"

"Who's a dick?"

Wincing at the deep voice that came from the doorway, Violet turned in her seat to see Hunter. If he had knocked, neither she nor Steve had noticed. She cleared her throat, searching for a good lie, and nearly swallowed her tongue when the man next to her spoke up.

"This guy. Ex-boyfriend of hers." The words rolled easily off Steve's tongue while he lifted his cup of coffee for a sip. "He keeps calling and texting her. No worries, though, I'll deal with him."

"Thanks," she murmured weakly.

Hunter looked from Violet to Steve and back again, brow furrowed thoughtfully. Then, obviously deciding it was none of his business, he stepped into the room and pulled one of the spare chairs over to sit in. "I looked over the rough cuts you sent me last night, and…"

Forty-five minutes and three pages of notes later, Violet watched Hunter leave, waiting until he had closed the door behind him before releasing a sigh. His input and suggestions had been good, and she already knew she would implement most of them. She tried telling herself that she wouldn't use them simply because Hunter had suggested them, and was grateful when Steve pointed out that his ideas had merit from a videography standpoint as well.

"Do you have any interviews today?" he asked once she'd finished copying her notes on her laptop.

"No, I got the bits I wanted yesterday." Once they had finalized a tentative outline of their work for the evening, she sat back and stretched. Steve was flicking through photographs he had taken the day before, fingers expertly tapping the keys on his laptop to delete several at a time. Gazing at one of Finn, she smiled.

"How was your ride last night?"

"It was great." She chewed her bottom lip. "Finn rode with me."

"I figured he would." Steve glanced at her and smiled. "By the way, he's not a first-rate ass."

"I know he isn't." Recalling his passionate speech in the bathroom that morning, she couldn't help the silly smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Things still PG with him?" he asked casually, gaze back on the laptop. When she didn't answer, he turned to look at her. She saw one corner of his mouth lift and then he was shaking his head. "Never mind. Don't answer that."

"Is it that obvious?" she groaned, feeling her face start to burn.

"Only because I know you." He leaned forward to focus on the photographs again.

She was grateful the subject had been dropped, and pushed her chair back to stand.

"Just let me know if I need to add condoms to the supply list," he said as she reached for her phone.

"Steve!"

"I know, the guy is supposed to have them ready. But sometimes they'll be in the bottom of his suitcase or he'll be out. And it's the twenty-first century, so there's no shame in a woman supplying them." He held up both hands in surrender. "That's it, I promise."

"I'm going to get a drink. Do you need more coffee?"

"I'll get some later."

She slipped her phone into her pocket and was halfway to the door when he spoke again.

"Oh, Violet?"

"Yes?"

"Tell Finn I said hello."

Her attempt at an irritated expression amused him. His laughter followed her into the hallway, where she nearly bumped into Sasha Banks.

"Just the person I was looking for!" The petite woman beamed.

"Why were you looking for me?" Violet asked in confusion.

"Because I like you. Come on, let's go grab a bite and catch up." She seized one of Violet's hands and led her through the backstage maze. "And I love what you've done with your hair!"

Violet reached up with her free hand to touch her hair, wondering what she'd done differently. By the time she and Finn had left the bathroom – she vowed she would never be able to look at a bathroom sink the same way again – it had been an uncontrollable mess of tangles and waves. Finally she had brushed it out and managed a somewhat neat French braid. "I didn't really do anything special."

"Really? It's so much shinier than the other day." Sasha dropped her hand as they entered Catering. "Did you use a different conditioner?"

"No… I just did the usual thing."

"Huh. Anyway, it looks great." Sasha launched into a discussion on hair, and once they each had a plate and were seated at a table Violet had learned more about the different types of available weaves than she would have dreamed possible. She waved a plastic fork and stated, "I'm so jealous of your hair though. It's naturally thick and wavy so you don't even need a weave."

"I've never really paid much attention to it," Violet admitted. "Other than washing it and doing a deep conditioning once a month."

"What's up with this bit here?" Sasha motioned to the lock of hair that had pulled free of the braid. "It's so much shorter than the rest."

"Oh, that," she sighed, tucking it behind her ear. "It got caught in the shredder at the office."

Sasha's mouth dropped open in horror. "The shredder?"

Wrinkling her nose as she remembered the events, Violet nodded and told her the morbid tale. How she had worn her hair down to the office for once. How she had leaned over to feed paper into the shredder. How the machine had suddenly jammed. How she had been forced to call for help when she realized her hair was stuck. How the shredder had needed replacing. When she finished, Sasha was laughing hysterically.

"Do you ever wear it down to the office anymore?" she giggled.

"Are you kidding? I don't even use the shredder!"

"Oh! Some of the girls are getting together next week," Sasha announced when she'd recovered from her laughter. "Becky, Charlotte, Nia, and Bayley are coming to my place. We usually just pig out, drink wine, and complain about men while watching movies. Say you'll come."

"Really?" Awed at the invitation, Violet bit the inside of her lip.

"Yes, really. I told Charlotte I was going to ask you and she says you have to come. Have you met Becky yet?"

"Only in passing. I met Bayley and Nia last week at the Performance Center."

"Good, then you know everyone. Give me your number so I can text you directions."

"But you guys will probably want to talk about private stuff, and—"

"Hush. It's just girl talk. You're not busy Wednesday night are you?"

She didn't bother pretending to think. "No."

"Then you can come. Number?"

She had just finished reciting the digits when a thin man with a headset called Sasha's name from the doorway.

"I gotta run. Catch you later," Sasha promised, hopping to her feet and grabbing her empty plate.

Violet couldn't hold back her smile as she gathered her own trash. It had been so long since she'd spent an evening with 'girls'. Despite her surprise and trepidation, she found herself looking forward to spending more time with Sasha. And Charlotte and Bayley and Nia, too.

Thinking of the women, who were all beautiful and extroverted and were living their dreams, she heaved a sigh while making her way down the hallways. There was no way she'd ever fit in with them. How could she possibly have anything in common with those gorgeous creatures? Rounding a corner, she saw one of the women – Summer Rae – chatting with a member of the production team.

Violet bit her lip, feeling as though she were growing shorter and rounder the longer she looked at the slim blonde. She completely forgot the things Finn had told her that morning. He saw these women nearly every day. Women that, rightfully, took pride in their appearances. Women that worked out, wore makeup, let experts dye, cut, and put extensions into their hair. Women who wore barely-there outfits when at work, and tended to dress like models at all other times.

Why the hell was Finn sleeping with her when he cold no doubt have his pick of any of them?

She continued on, recalling his words that morning. They'd taken her breath away, ensnared her. Had he meant them? He'd seemed to. She'd been almost fearful of the fervor in his voice. And she'd fallen so easily for them. Was that why? Did he think she was easy? She wasn't. Except… She apparently was. One whispered request for a good night kiss and she'd…

"Ugh," she groaned.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Finn had just removed his coat when there was a knock at his door. Still holding the coat, he crossed to let whoever it was in, a smile pulling at his lips when he saw Violet. To his surprise, she had already changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. And she was holding an ice bucket.

"You said I could drop in if I needed anything," she reminded him.

As though he hadn't told her so just five minutes before. When they'd parted ways at the elevator. At first he'd been a bit miffed that she'd kept her own room, but when he'd thought on it, the decision made sense. She wasn't the type to just assume she would be welcome to share his room after the night before. Even though she was welcome to. "I did. What do you need?"

"Ice," she answered, holding up the bucket. "And a goodnight kiss."

There was something about the way her eyes sparkled when she said the word _kiss_. "I can definitely help you out with that," he assured, motioning for her to come into the room. Once the door was closed, he hung up his coat and lifted his suitcase onto the spare bed, the whole time watching her.

"I don't see any ice," she mused, a playfulness in her tone as she placed the ice bucket on the table.

He chuckled and unzipped his suitcase. Starting to unbutton his shirt, he turned to face her, heart skipping a beat when she walked over and began to help him. "It hasn't gotten here yet, _a thaisce_."

"What does that mean?" Her fingers grazed his skin as she tugged the shirttails free of his slacks.

"It means I haven't gone down to get any—"

"Not that," she groaned. " _A thaisce_."

Her pronunciation wasn't perfect. Dipping his head, he kissed the tip of her nose and repeated the phrase softly. "It's Irish."

"…For?" she prodded, reaching to nudge the shirt over his shoulders. Her palms skimmed his flesh, then her fingers were dancing down his chest.

"My darling." He kissed her nose again, then lightly brushed his lips over hers. "My treasure."

"Why would you call me—"

"Shh," he interrupted. "No self-deprecation allowed when you're with me, _a thaisce_."

"I didn't know you spoke Irish," she whispered.

"A little."

"Say it again?" she requested, lifting her hands to cup his face.

" _A thaisce_." He intentionally thickened his accent and was rewarded with a soft sigh just before his lips met hers fully. He shook his arms free of the shirt before catching her by the waist, tongue stroking her bottom lip while his fingers sneaked beneath her shirt. The dull ache of desire that had stayed with him all day surged into full-blown desire. She was a drug, he marveled, moaning at the first touch of her tongue to his. He'd been high on her since that first delectable taste, and he wondered if he would ever stop craving her.

Within moments they were across the bed. He tore his lips from hers, hazily wondering how her shirt had been removed. Her breasts, plush and bare and warm, pressed against his chest. Her legs were twined with his. Her arms were draped over his shoulders in an adoring fashion. Gazing down at her, taking in her glittering eyes and swollen lips, he sighed with delight.

"That's one hell of a goodnight kiss," she murmured with a blissful hum.

"Want another?" he asked, stealing a kiss before she could answer.

"I didn't really need ice," she admitted when they broke for air.

"Thank god, because I wasn't going to get any," he returned with a chuckle. Pressing a kiss to her collarbone, he enjoyed her soft sigh. He reluctantly pulled away and unbuckled his belt. She moved to cover her bare chest then seemed to think better of it and sat up.

"Aren't you exhausted?" she asked, fingers moving through her hair. Within seconds she had gathered the loose waves into a ponytail and secured it with a band from her wrist.

"A little." Transfixed when she stood, he could only watch as she wriggled out of her shorts.

"Do you want me to go? Because—"

"Violet," he groaned, leaning to smack a kiss to her cheek. "Get your ass in the bed."

"Bossy," she scoffed. Her smile belied the scornful tone, though, and she drew back the covers before crawling into the bed. She placed her glasses on the nightstand then settled back.

He joined her a few moments later. There was a new sense of comfort when she moved closer and tucked her warm body next to his. A new anticipation when she tilted her head and found his lips for a tender kiss.

The intimacy was slow. He took his time, learning more secrets of her body. The backs of her knees were ticklish. The outside of her ankles were sensitive to kisses. She held onto him as he explored, seemingly needing to anchor herself. She reciprocated his touches, doing more than a little exploration herself, and he learned that her mouth on crest of his hip took his breath away. Her nails gently scratching his scalp caused goosebumps to rise on his skin.

Fingers laced with hers. Bodies joined. With nothing but perspiration between them, he watched her face and memorized what he could. The way her teeth clutched her bottom lip before she said his name. The way her head tipped back. The way her eyes glowed. Her gasps. The way her grip on his hands tightened just before his mind went blank with ecstasy.

"Shower," she managed between the kisses he offered once coherence returned.

"I can't," he mumbled before catching her in another kiss. She still tasted of oranges. He felt her thighs slide against his and shivered, dropping his head to her shoulder.

"Finn…" She almost whined his name, giving his hands a gentle shake. Her fingers worked free, and he moaned when they slid over his head. "Just a little exhausted, huh?"

"That…" He paused, pressing his lips together as the pads of her fingers lightly massaged the back of his neck. How could she think of moving? Of showering, for crying out loud? Of anything? "…And I can't walk right now."

"I'll take that as a huge compliment," she murmured after a moment. Her fingers continued to massage his neck. "But I need a shower."

"Nah," he muttered, nuzzling her neck. She smelled of apples and flowers and sex.

"Finn, I'm gross," Violet laughed. She gently tapped his neck then resumed massaging.

"Are not," he argued. Far from it. She was heavenly. Soft and warm and aromatic. And her fingers were magic, he decided as they moved to the base of his skull.

"Are you falling asleep?" she asked softly.

"Little bit." He scraped together enough energy to lift off her, hissing at the effort it took. As soon as he was lying next to her he dragged her close. With a groan, he realized the lamp was still on and groped on the nightstand to turn it off. Bathed in darkness, he looked forward to a restful sleep.

Her breath was a balmy breeze across his chest. Her lips brushed just over his heart. "Good night, Finn."

"'Night, _a thaisce_."

* * *

"What are you doing next week?"

Violet looked up from her breakfast, fork poised over the pancake that looked perfectly light and fluffy. Across from her, Finn was cutting into his own. "When exactly?"

"Wednesday or Thursday." He glanced up and smiled.

"Nothing that I – Oh!" she blurted, then glanced around the small hotel restaurant to make sure she hadn't disturbed anyone. There was hardly anyone else, though. Just an older couple in a booth in the corner. "Sasha invited me over to her place Wednesday night."

"Did she?" He didn't look surprised. "The girls' gabfest?"

"I suppose so."

"Well?" he asked when she began cutting into her pancake. "Are you going?"

She waited until she'd taken the first bite of her pancake before answering. She had to pause to savor the perfection, noting the cook had used real butter. Picking up her glass of milk, she nodded. "I think so. She inferred that if I don't, she'll find me and drag me over by my hair."

Finn chuckled. "You'll have fun. To hear them talk, it's the highlight of their month."

"I'm looking forward to it. It's been ages since I had a girls' gabfest, as you call it."

"And Thursday?" he prodded after a moment. "Are you busy then?"

"Unless something comes up, no." She reached for the syrup. "Why?"

"I was hoping you could do something with me." He slipped a slice of bacon off the plate between them.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know. Dinner and a movie maybe."

Violet was certain she felt her heart flutter. "Finn, are you asking me on a date?"

"If you'll recall, I asked you on a date last week." His smile was infectious. "But yes, I am."

She couldn't help but notice the way he fiddled with his fork as he spoke. Like he was nervous about asking her. She would have thought that, after the days of shared intimacy, asking her on an actual date wouldn't have been that big a deal. But apparently it was. "A real date?" she asked. "I mean, going out?"

"Well yeah," he answered. "If you want to. If you don't, we—"

"I'd love to."

The way his face brightened caused her heart to flutter again. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

* * *

The corridors of the backstage area were their usual hubbub of activity. Finn sidestepped a man carrying a large coil of cable, then darted to avoid bumping into a heavy crate parked against the wall. Following the signs that pointed to the Gorilla position, he breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the fabricated room and found it relatively quiet. He went through to the entrance ramp, reveling in the peacefulness of the near-empty arena. Michael Cole and Corey Graves were over at the commentary table, going over notes for the night's show. He returned their waves of greeting before making his way to the ring.

Sami, Karl, and Kevin were there, leaning against the apron and chatting. Beyond, he saw Hunter talking with a cameraman. Joining his friends at the ring, he fished his phone out of his pocket.

"There he is," Karl enthused, greeting him with a clap on the shoulder. "Where the hell were you, man? We've been waiting for twenty minutes."

Finn cleared his throat. "I—"

"We know where he was," Kevin announced with a grin.

Christ. He looked from one face to the other, and recognized the teasing gleams in their eyes. "Ah, fuck," he muttered.

"Were you?" Karl asked, eyes widening. "I knew it had to be some chick, but—"

"I wasn't," Finn insisted. Rolling his eyes when Karl snorted, he put his phone on the apron and shrugged out of his hoodie. "I was just talking to someone."

"How is Violet?" Sami inquired with a faint smile.

Violet was great. She'd been about to type up her voiceover script when he'd left her office backstage. And she'd had the most adorable smile on her face. "She's—"

"Violet?" Karl began to grin. "The documentary gal?"

"The one and only," Sami confirmed.

"I _knew_ you were interested in her," Karl drawled. He turned to Sami and Kevin. "He couldn't keep his eyes off her the other day when he was showing her the ring."

"You should have seen him at the zoo with her." This from Kevin. "It was sickening."

"Yeah?"

"They held hands and everything," Sami added with a dramatic shudder.

"I fucking hate all of you," Finn grumbled.

"We love you too," Sami crooned.

"Hey, dude, I like her," Karl promised, holding his hands up in defense. "I got to talk to her in Catering earlier. She's cool."

Knowing Karl as he did, this was high praise indeed. But he didn't want to get into a conversation about his relationship with Violet. He already got enough teasing about it from Sami and Kevin. So he merely nodded.

"When are you going to take her out?" Sami questioned as they climbed into the ring.

"You ain't taken her out yet?" Karl yelled. "Dude, what the fuck?"

"When have I had time?" Finn defended, throwing out his hands to indicate the ring they were in.

"Well, there's early morning. Or lunchtime. Or, y'know, pull some romantic shit out of your ass and find a quiet place in the arena to sneak off to for an hour or so." Karl began to bounce on the balls of his feet.

"Words of wisdom from Mr. Romance," Kevin said sarcastically. He looked to Finn. "Don't do that."

"We're going out later this week." At Karl's confused expression, he explained that she had a room at an extended-stay hotel in Orlando. Then, before Kevin and Sami could start questioning him, he told them of their tentative plans for dinner and a movie.

"Do the movie first," Sami told him. "That way you'll have something to talk about over dinner."

"No, do dinner first," Karl argued. "It's not like you're strangers. But when you get to the movie, don't buy popcorn for yourself."

"Why not?" Kevin grunted, motioning for Sami to start their usual practice moveset.

"Because sharing popcorn is romantic. Duh," Sami snorted as he locked up with his friend.

"Oh please. This isn't the nineteen fifties," Kevin scorned. "They're not going to hold hands in a tub of buttered popcorn then go share a banana split at the soda fountain."

"I'm telling you, women dig that kind of stuff," Karl insisted.

"No, they don't. Besides, maybe she doesn't even like popcorn."

"Everybody likes popcorn!"

Finn rolled his eyes, falling to the canvas after an arm drag from Karl. As his friends continued to bicker amongst themselves, he violently swore that he would never tell them of his date plans ever again.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Violet had barely knocked on the door when it was flung open. Sasha, hair up in a messy bun and dressed in pajamas, grinned and nearly dragged her into the apartment. "You're here!"

"I'm here," Violet confirmed with a laugh, following the tug of Sasha's hand on her arm into the living room. Her initial thought was that the room looked exceedingly comfortable. The large sectional couch was dotted with throw pillows and draped with blankets. The walls were painted a soft yellow. There were fresh flowers, and art prints on the walls. The coffee table was covered with platters and bowls of snacks, and as Sasha motioned for her to get comfortable, Charlotte came out of the kitchen holding a bottle of wine. She, too, was wearing pajamas.

"Violet!" she enthused.

Not expecting the embrace, Violet grunted in surprise when the woman's arms wrapped around her in a brief hug.

"So glad you made it. Bayley's on her way. Nia's in the kitchen. Nia! Violet's here!" Charlotte lifted the bottle of wine. "What's your poison?"

"I think there's some beer in the fridge," Sasha put in. "And soda."

"I'll start with soda," Violet decided, waving to Nia, who leaned out of the kitchen doorway to greet her.

"Where the hell is Becky?" Nia called from the kitchen.

"She said she'd be a little late and to not drink all the wine before she gets here."

Violet headed into the kitchen and saw Nia was pouring liquor into a blender. "Mixed drinks?"

"Daiquiris." Nia indicated the bowl of strawberries on the counter.

Bayley arrived, and Violet smiled as the woman was greeted with exuberance. When she exited the kitchen, she saw that Bayley was in her pajamas as well.

"Is this a sleepover?" she asked Sasha while settling on the couch. For once, she felt overdressed. She had thought the denim capris and green tank top were a good choice.

"No, this is a to-hell-with-conventions-we're-going-to-be-comfy shindig," Sasha answered.

"And half of us end up sleeping over," Charlotte added, folding her long legs beneath her while taking one corner of the couch. "It's just easier this way."

"Do you live in Florida?" Bayley asked, taking a daiquiri from Nia and sitting on the floor.

"Miami," Violet told her. "I'm staying in Orlando while I do the documentary."

Sasha grabbed a remote and flopped next to Violet. She seemed to randomly choose a movie to play, and tossed the remote aside while accepting a glass of wine from Charlotte. Looking to Violet, she grinned. "It doesn't matter what we put on. Nobody pays attention to the movies. It's just background noise."

She could tell. Nia and Charlotte were already talking about some new beauty product. Bayley was looking over the snack choices, offering her opinion on the under-eye mask.

"Are you enjoying being on the road?" Sasha asked.

"It's great." Violet smiled and, unable to resist, leaned to help herself to a handful of potato chips. "I don't think I could do it for longer than a few weeks, though. My sleep schedule is beyond screwed up."

"Your body adjusts." Sasha took a sip of wine then pulled the bowl of Skittles into her lap. After picking out a handful of the red ones, she popped them into her mouth. "You learn to sleep when you can."

"Catnaps are the _best_ ," Charlotte put in, leaning to take the Skittles.

"That's one thing I'm not looking forward to." This from Nia. "I've gotten spoiled by being in my own bed every night."

"God, I miss my bed," Violet sighed.

"A queen?" Bayley guessed. "Pillow top?"

"How did you know?"

"She's weird," Sasha teased with a laugh. "She has this knack for guessing what kind of bed people sleep in."

"It's a talent," Bayley corrected. "Miss King-Sized Sleep Number."

"Girl, I like to stretch out and don't like being crowded when I'm not alone." Sasha rolled her eyes. "Can't stand having a man all over me when I'm trying to sleep."

"Really? I like being curled up against—" Violet cut off before she said the name, and quickly took a sip of her soda.

"Against who?" Charlotte asked sweetly.

"Um…" Violet felt her cheeks color as all four women shifted to regard her curiously.

"Oh come on, tell us," Sasha insisted. "There are no secrets here."

Violet was saved from speaking by a rhythmic knocking at the door. Bayley hopped up to go answer it, and a moment later Becky's accented voice was greeting them all. She, too, was in pajamas, and dropped her keys on the table near the window before flopping on the couch.

"You're just in time," Sasha told her. "Violet's going to tell us who she's been curling up in bed with."

"I was?" Violet squeaked.

"Yes," four voices chimed in unison.

Becky laughed. "Don't tell us yet, let me get my wine." She rolled off the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Why is everyone so interested in who I'm curling up with?" Violet asked.

"We'll tell you ours," Nia offered with a grin.

"No one at the moment," Bayley announced. She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink.

"Seth." Sasha was smirking.

"Braun." Nia had a silly smile on her face as everyone looked to her. "What? I like big country boys."

"But he's so… Big," Charlotte said. "I'd be afraid he'd break me in two."

"He's trying, trust me," Nia sighed.

Violet joined in the laughter, jumping slightly when Becky dropped onto the couch again. Glancing at the Irish woman, she smiled. There was something so… Infectious about the group of women. There wasn't cattiness. They seemed to be a group of true friends, judging by how happy and relaxed they all seemed in each other's company.

"Who's sharing your bed nowadays, Becky?" Nia asked.

"Same man that's been sharing it for a year." She paused, focusing on pouring wine into her glass. "Dean."

"Your turn," Sasha informed, and Violet felt all the attention shift to her.

"Charlotte hasn't told us who she's sharing a bed with though." Violet prayed the woman would be secretive. And that the other women would turn their attention to her. But, to her irritation, Charlotte beamed.

"Tye," the blonde announced.

"Dillinger?" Violet asked, smiling when Charlotte nodded. "He's nice."

"Yes, he is," Charlotte. Propping her elbow on the back of the couch, she waved her hand in a circular motion. "Now spill."

"I…" What if Finn didn't want her talking about them being together? She had viewed his social media accounts enough times to know that he was beyond private about his life outside the ring. Would he want this group of women to know? As she pondered, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and instinctively leaned to retrieve it, getting a quick glance at the screen before Sasha snatched it away.

"No hiding on your phone," the woman said piously, even though Charlotte and Nia both had their phones out. "It doesn't matter that…" She looked at the screen, and her lips curved into a knowing smirk. Still holding Violet's phone, she grabbed hers off the table. Within seconds she had Instagram loaded. " _Someone_ just posted about a _fantastic_ talk he had about wrestling, Lego, superheroes, and giraffes with… Oh look, it's you."

Violet's jaw dropped. She forgot about her phone being taken away and leaned to look at the screen of Sasha's. Finn had posted a photo of them. Together. Her heart did a strange twirling in her chest. It was a picture Steve had taken after they'd finished another portion of the interview. How had he gotten it? she wondered, only able to smile as she took a closer look. His arm was around his shoulders. He was laughing, and she remembered the sound of his laughter when Steve had cracked a joke. Her glasses were a little askew, her hair was a mess, but she decided she liked the smile on her face. She couldn't remember smiling like that ever. Not until recently.

"I need details," Sasha murmured, handing Violet's phone over.

"We all do," Becky added, having scooted closer to see what the photo was.

"I want to see!" Bayley crawled over to the bag she'd dropped earlier and rummaged around for her phone.

"Really?" Charlotte asked, grinning as she looked at her phone. "You've been curling up with—"

"Don't spoil it!" Nia blurted, fingers swiping on the screen of her phone. "I want to – Oh my god, it's—"

"Finn!" Bayley shouted. "That's so great!"

Violet wondered what Finn would think if he glanced at his notifications and saw that all the women she was currently with had liked his photo at the same time. Because she could tell they were doing so. Sasha, it seemed, was even leaving a comment.

"Details," Becky insisted, expression brimming with excitement. "I had a feeling he was seeing someone. But you know Finn, he's not about to share private things unless you hold him down and threaten him."

"There aren't any details," Violet attempted, biting her lip when the statement was met with a round of scoffs. So she tried another tack. "Just because he posted a photo with me on Instagram doesn't mean—"

She faltered at the sight of five disbelieving expressions. The movie played on, but no one was paying any attention to it.

"He… I guess we're kind of together," she murmured. Unnerved by the way all five women lowered their phones and turned their full attention to her, she cleared her throat. "I mean, we haven't gone out on a date yet, but…"

"But you've slept with him," Sasha concluded.

"Uh, yeah—"

"It wasn't a one-night thing was it?" Bayley asked.

"No…" Thinking of the nearly ravenous appetite she and Finn seemed to have for each other, she felt her cheeks start to color. She shook her head, her mind replaying the events of the night before. When he'd texted that his bed felt empty. Then he'd shown up at her door. Not for sex, he'd promised between sweet kisses. But because he had needed to hold her. Of course, sex had happened. Languid but urgent, with him guiding her body into positions she wouldn't have thought possible. Without intending to she sighed.

"She's got it bad," Nia announced.

"But why hasn't he taken you on a date yet?" Becky asked amid the quick chorus of 'aww' that came from the other women.

"Well with the schedule, and everything… He actually asked me out last week but I took a rain check." She felt like she was babbling. Taking a sip of her soda, she helped herself to some more potato chips. "We're going out tomorrow."

"Where to?" Charlotte asked.

"I don't know. He said maybe dinner and a movie—"

"What are you going to wear?"

Violet paused at Sasha's question. "I… Don't know?" she offered meekly. "Jeans and a shirt, I guess?"

"No," Nia groaned with a shake of her head. "He's already seen you in that."

"But that's all I brought with me. And I don't have time to go shopping or to order something or… Why are you looking at me like that?" Bewildered, Violet froze, a potato chip halfway to her mouth.

Within minutes she was on her feet. Nia was looking her up and down, nodding to herself. Becky and Charlotte were critically examining her hair. Bayley and Sasha, she noticed, stayed where they were, looking on with knowing smiles.

"What are they doing to me?" Violet asked them, growing more confused when Nia said she would be back as soon as possible. Bayley offered to go with her, and seconds later she heard the apartment door close behind them.

"Nia's gone to get you something to wear tomorrow. She lives a couple blocks away, so she won't be gone long," Sasha explained with a wave of her hand. "And those two are figuring out how you should wear your hair."

"You're not going to start poking and prodding me, are you?"

Sasha's smile expanded into a grin. "No. Not until tomorrow when I do your makeup."

* * *

"Well, kid, how's it going?"

Finn chuckled. He had a feeling that Matt would be calling him 'kid' for the rest of his life. Hearing his friend sigh as he flopped onto the other couch, he lifted his head. "It's going great," he said honestly. "The fans are responding well, I haven't fucked up anything in a match, and there's been a spike in my merch sales."

A stuffed bear sailed through the air and hit the side of his head. Laughing as it dropped into his lap, he grabbed it and threw it back. "I know that shit already," Matt groaned. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Like what?" Finn settled more comfortably on the couch. Through the open door leading into the back yard, he could hear Matt's kids chattering and laughing as they played. Matt's wife, Farah, was in the kitchen cooking an early dinner. Finn, relaxed, enjoyed the peacefulness of the Bloom household. As he always did.

"How the guys are treating you, do you like the direction your feud is going, what do you think of the documentary," Matt rattled off, slinging the stuffed bear towards Finn again. "If you've met anyone. Stuff like that."

Finn grunted as the bear bounced off his head and landed behind the couch. "Well," he began, exhaling loudly. "The guys are the guys, you know. A few are great, some are good, some are asses. Like anywhere else."

Matt nodded.

"And I guess the feud's going good? I haven't gotten the feeling that it's gone stale just yet. Seth and I have been working together with the writers so the promos sound organic." Finn reached to idly scratch his chin.

"The documentary?" Matt prodded after a moment.

"I like the idea. The lady doing it knows her stuff. She asks deep questions that you can't just bullshit an answer to." Finn trained his gaze on the coffee table. A half-finished game of Monopoly was still in place. There was a copy of _The Poky Little Puppy_ next to a selection of hair clips. His gaze naturally moved around the rest of the room. It was ever changing, evidence of new interests popping up every time he visited. And yet it remained the same. Comfortable. Lived-in. There was an underlying organization to the seeming chaos. He knew from experience that the entire Bloom family could find anything in a second. "I got to see some footage the photographer took. I get a good vibe about it."

"Yeah, I do too. I think it's going to turn out great. Miss Lovell does know her stuff. I think by now she could give a tour of the Performance Center," Matt chuckled.

Finn smiled. That didn't surprise him.

"And she's nice," Matt went on. "A lot of journalists, even hacks from sites you've never heard of, have an attitude when they come in for an interview. But she's got a little something to her."

"Yeah, she's passionate," Finn agreed with a nod. He leaned forward to get his cup of tea, thinking of just how passionate Violet was when he felt the ache in his back. Masking a hiss by pretending to take a sip of his drink, he was aware of Matt's gaze on him and knew he would have to answer the last bit of his friend's initial line of questioning. "And yeah, I've met someone. Lots of someones, actually—"

"Goddamnit, Finn." Another stuffed animal came flying toward him.

Laughing, he managed to duck it. "Fine, fine! I met someone."

"Where?"

"Er… Backstage."

"When?"

Finn rubbed the back of his neck and wondered if Matt's kids were ready to come inside. Surely it was time for them to do so? "The night of my debut…"

"Yeah?"

Blinking, he looked to Matt, and saw a grin on the man's face. He nodded, and realized that was the end of his questioning. Matt wasn't interested in who the someone was, or what their relationship was like. He just seemed happy to know Finn had, finally, met someone. With relief, he settled back, content with the knowledge that there would be no proverbial third degree. That was, until Matt leaned back to shout towards the kitchen.

"Hey, babe!" Matt paused to wait for his wife to reply. "Finn met someone!"

"You…" Finn inwardly cringed at Farah's sound of surprise, and heard her footsteps approaching. He saw Matt's grin widen to one of pure glee. "You _bastard_."

* * *

Violet was certain her entire body had been poked, prodded, clothed, unclothed, and looked at by the five women. There was no opportunity to be modest, considering she had become a life-sized Barbie doll, and so she gave up, staring at the ceiling while Sasha tugged on the dress they'd put her in. As soon as Sasha turned away, Nia was tugging it back up. And so it went, until she began to expect they would pose her body just as they wanted. The blue dress was taken away, replaced by a black sheath.

Oh, she liked this one, she decided, daring a glance at herself in the full-length mirror. Of all the tops and dresses that had been put on her, this showed the least amount of cleavage. It was simple, tucked in slightly at the waist, with just a little bit of a flare to the skirt, which ended just at her knees. It was also comfortable, something she had thought impossible when it came to dresses. Turning to catch would she could of the rear, she found herself smiling. She had barely opened her mouth to voice an opinion when the others began to talk rapidly.

They were like a group of crazed locusts, she thought, holding back a laugh as she was turned to and fro until they had seen her from all possible angles. "Guys," she finally gasped, ducking away. "I like this one."

"We do too," Nia said.

"It needs something, though." Charlotte looked Violet up and down. "Maybe a chunky necklace?"

"No… What about a shawl?"

Sasha's closet doors were flung open to find the perfect shawl. Violet took the opportunity to relax, and turned to Bayley. "Are they always like this?"

"You should have seen them when Becky first went out with Dean." Bayley grinned and reached to gently pull at the chain at Violet's neck. The locket was pulled free of the dress, and Bayley smiled. "That's pretty. Heirloom?"

"A gift from my best friend's dad when I turned sixteen. He gave one to each of us."

"It's perfect with the dress."

Violet didn't say that she would have fought Charlotte's idea of a chunky necklace if Nia hadn't. Not because she was against the idea, per se. She had nothing against chunky necklaces. It was just that Finn seemed to like the heart-shaped locket so much. Which was probably the stupidest reason to wear a necklace, she conceded, wrinkling her nose as Sasha approached with an armful of colorful shawls. But he did like it… At least, he seemed to. He was always touching it. Adjusting it when a kiss ended. Stroking it during sex. And after, she thought, remembering the feel of his fingers as she had fallen asleep the night before. So, stupid reason though it may be, she was going to keep wearing it.

A shawl was chosen – the perfect shade of red, and the perfect weight for a summer evening, according to Nia. She was helped out of the dress and allowed to put her own clothes back on while the dress and shawl were hung with care. Sasha promised to have it steamed and bring it with her the next afternoon. Violet helped them hang the unchosen dresses and tops back on their hangers, and was about to retreat to the living room when Charlotte released a gasp fit for a horror movie queen.

"What about shoes?!"

Oh, god. Sensing the wheels in their heads starting to spin wildly, she held up her hands. "I have sandals that will be just fine. I'm not wearing heels."

"But—"

"I'm doing good to balance this in flat shoes," Violet insisted, gesturing to her backside. "I'm not about to teeter around on a pair of toothpicks."

Questions were thrown at her as they returned to the living room. What did the sandals look like? What color? Were they old and worn? New? She answered them all, finally getting her phone to find a picture of the exact sandals. When they were finally alright with her choice, she settled on the couch with a sigh. She reached for her drink while Sasha started up another movie. But the movie was paused immediately, and the petite woman sat on the couch, facing Violet, expression one of expectance.

"Well?" Sasha asked after a moment.

"What?" Violet thought better of taking a sip and lowered the glass.

"What's Finn like in bed?"

* * *

" _A thaisce_ ," Finn greeted, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder. "I didn't expect to hear from you tonight. I thought you were gabbing your heart out?"

"I've gabbed until I can gab no more." Violet's dramatic sigh brought a smile to his lips.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, eyes on the pepper he was slicing.

"I really did. They're fun to hang out with. I just don't know that I could hang out with them all night long."

"Not into braiding hair and painting your nails, then?"

"The gabfest had no hair braiding or nail painting," she told him with a soft laugh.

"Then what did it have?"

"I refuse to divulge the secrets of a feminine gathering. After all, we have to hold some mystery."

Finn scoffed, tipping the cutting board so the peppers fell into the pan. He didn't want to know mysteries. He just wanted to know if the five women had questioned her as thoroughly as Matt's wife had questioned him. "I have a sister, you know. Not that much mystery left for me. Except why the hell you all have so many bobby pins."

She actually giggled. "Bobby pins? All the things there are to know about the opposite sex and you ask about bobby pins?"

"It's bothered me for ages," he explained. "And it seems to be all women, or at least all the women I've known. My sister was leaving them everywhere. And whenever my parents come for a visit, I find them in the bathroom. And my mother doesn't even wear her hair up."

"They're for more than holding up hair…"

"Such as?"

"I can say no more," she said in a dramatic whisper.

"Which means you don't know," he challenged. "I bet you all just carry them around and drop one or two here and there."

"You're just trying to trick me," she teased.

"Damn, you caught on?" Stirring the contents of the pan, he listened to her laugh. "What are you doing for dinner?"

"Ordering in, I suppose. All I've got at the room is cereal. I'm not really hungry. Sasha had enough food to feed an army."

"Ah, so the gabfest had food?"

"And wine. I swear I've never seen so much wine tossed back. And Nia was making – Stop trying to find out what happens at a women's get together."

Grinning, he turned off the burner and transferred the chicken and vegetable mix to the waiting plate. The sight of the food sparked his memory, and he cleared his throat. "I saw there's a Hitchcock film playing at the Rialto. _Dial M_ something. Did you want to go see that?"

" _Dial M for Murder_?!"

Finn held the phone away from his ear, surprised by her squeal. When he decided it was safe, he brought the phone back. "I take it that's a yes?"

"God yes," she practically gushed. "I've wanted to see that on a big screen for years!"

Smiling, because had pored over the local movie listings all morning before finding that particular one, he picked up his plate and carried it to the table. "It starts at nine. I got dinner reservations for seven thirty. So I'll be by to get you at seven?"

"Reservations? Sounds fancy."

"If you'd rather—"

"I'll be ready at seven," she promised. "I'm really looking forward to it."

Finn smiled again. "So am I."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"What do you think?"

"Honest?"

"Yes, honest."

"I look like I've got two black eyes."

Violet bit back a laugh when Sasha scoffed. A cotton ball soaked with makeup remover was handed over, accompanied by mutters. "I'm not trying to be difficult," she promised, working to swipe away the shades of gray and black coating her eyelid. Sasha got another cotton ball and began to work on the other eye. "And I'm not ungrateful, because you taking your precious time off to help me is—"

"A wonderful, saintly thing to do," Sasha finished. "It's a good thing I came here early, though. I had no idea you'd be so…"

Lowering the cotton ball, Violet squinted at her. "So what?"

"Selective."

"Good choice." She took the warm wet cloth and cleared the last remnants of what was supposed to have been a smoky eye. "I just don't see the point of so much, because it's going to be hidden behind my glasses."

"True." Sasha nodded and surveyed the assortment of pots, palettes, and powders spread across the bathroom counter. "Okay, okay, I've got an idea. We'll just go for something simple."

"Simple is good," Violet agreed.

"Natural."

"Natural is even better," Violet said enthusiastically. With that, she may get away with just a little lip gloss and some powder.

Sasha motioned for her to sit again. "Let's do this."

Natural, Violet decided an eternity later, was a misnomer. Twitching her nose to ward off a sneeze as Sasha dusted her face with more powder, she sagged with relief when she was deemed finished. Before she could turn to look at the finished product, though, Sasha whipped out a tube of lipstick.

"There." Sasha wiped her glasses with a clean tissue then slipped them on. Catching her gently by the shoulders, she twisted her to face the mirror. "What do you think?"

If she hadn't just sat through a multitude of sponges and brushes and applicators dabbing and sweeping and patting her face, she wouldn't have noticed much of a change. But she could see the subtle sweep of color at her cheeks. The tint of matte pink on her lips. And she saw the faint glimmer of gold on her eyelids. "I like it."

"Yeah? I didn't use concealer, so if you—"

"It's perfect," Violet insisted. "Thank you, Sasha."

Sasha beamed and began packing away her supplies. "What time is he getting here? Seven?"

"Yes." She looked to her watch and saw it was only thirty minutes away. Why did she feel so nervous? They'd been together intimately. They'd shared beds. He'd even seen her eat. So why did her stomach dip and her heart skip several beats? Why did a date seem like such a bigger deal?

"Just enough time to do your hair and get you dressed."

Violet followed the petite woman out of the bathroom. "I can get dressed on my own—"

"You have to be careful about your face." Sasha made an impatient motion with her hand. "Lose the robe."

"Always so anxious to get me naked," Violet chided, shrugging out of the robe and tossing it onto the bed.

"Not as anxious as Finn is," Sasha snorted.

* * *

"Sami," Finn greeted in surprise, staring at the man at his door. Wiping droplets of water from his chest with his towel, he blinked slowly. "What are you doing here?"

"Just came by to make sure everything's going okay."

"Christ," he muttered, stepping back so his friend could enter the apartment. Closing the door, he draped the towel over his head and gave his wet hair a vigorous rub while heading for his bedroom. "I've been on dates before."

"Yes…" Sami followed, and leaned in the doorway. "But not with Violet."

As though he wasn't nervous enough already. He hastily began feeding a belt through the loops on his slacks while stepping into his shoes, aware that it was almost time for him to leave. "It's dinner and a movie, Sami. I think I can handle it."

"Just dinner and a movie?"

Finn turned, fingers going still as he followed Sami's gaze to the neatly made bed. "What?"

"New sheets?"

"…Maybe."

Sami sniffed the air dramatically. "Vanilla?"

"Lavender," he muttered. It was supposed to be relaxing. He yanked the belt through the last loop and fastened the buckle. "What's your point?"

"I've never seen the place look so clean."

"Thanks a lot, pal." Finn hid a grin as he pulled on his shirt, then ducked into the bathroom to comb his hair.

"Are you hoping to get lucky or something? Because you've put in a lot of work here." Sami chuckled. "You even dusted!"

"I can't have a clean place?" Finn called defensively, tucking his shirt in. He looked at his reflection and brought a hand to his chin. Should he have shaved?

"No, no, yeah, you can. But…" Sami waited until Finn exited the bathroom. "New sheets, air freshener… I know you, man."

"It's not getting lucky. Well, it is. But it's not."

Sami looked at him askance. "You want to run that by me again?"

"No." Finn fastened his watch and looped the tie around his neck. He was just starting to fix the knot when he spotted Sami's reflection in the mirror.

"You can relax, you know. She already likes you."

"I know," he sighed. The fine material was slippery and he lowered his hands. He allowed himself to internally admit that the reason he was so nervous was that the date would make it official. It had been a long time since he had been in an official relationship. Casual dates, one-night stands, even friends with benefits, had been enjoyed, but not a steady relationship. He was excited by the prospect, because he liked being with Violet. He liked learning things about her. In and out of the bedroom, she was proving to be a fascinating woman. Yet he was nervous. What if she decided she didn't like him as anything more than a fuck buddy? He flinched at the crass term. What if she realized that he really was boring? What if she found out just how awkward and dorky and—

"Dude. Calm down." Sami reached to tug the tie from his grasp. "You're making a mess."

Finn watched the crumpled silk land on his dresser and released a sigh. "I'm a mess."

"Nah. Just nervous." His friend offered an understanding smile and got another tie from the closet. "Here."

He gave in and let Sami fix his tie, fingers drumming against his thigh. "This is fucking ridiculous," he muttered, tilting his head back further when the knot was tightened. Starting to choke, he slapped Sami's hands away and adjusted the tie.

"What's ridiculous? You doing all this?" Sami took the ruined tie and tossed it into the closet.

"Me being nervous." Finn took his jacket from the foot of the bed and slipped it on. "Why should I be worried? It's just dinner and a movie."

"Where are you taking her?"

"Over to the—" He stopped suddenly and glanced up from double-checking his wallet. Carefully tucking it into his pocket, he reached for his phone and keys. "Oh, no. I'm not telling you."

Sami's face fell. "Why not?"

"Because I know you." He gave his hair a final adjustment and left the bedroom. "You'll tell me what a great choice, and then while I'm eating my salad I'll look over and see you in a corner spying."

"No you wouldn't, because Karl—"

Finn whirled around to face his friend, chuckling when he saw the startled expression on the man's face. "That bastard sent you here for reconnaissance?"

"Not exactly…" Sami rubbed the back of his neck, which was nearly the same ruddy red as his hair. "He said that out of all of us, you were more likely to tell me."

"Some friends," Finn muttered, continuing to the door. "Fine, I'll tell you where I'm going."

"Really?"

Finn waited until they were out of his apartment and heading towards his parked car before answering. "I'm taking Violet to that little Italian place a few blocks from the park. Then we're going to catch the new Purge movie."

"I didn't think you liked horror." Sami looked confused.

"Oh, she got me to watch the other two over the weekend." The lie rolled off his tongue easily, and he grinned while opening his car door and leaning in to start the engine. The evening was balmy, the Florida sun still strong despite the fact it was nearing the horizon.

"What are you going to do to Karl if you run into him?"

"Oh…" Finn shrugged, getting behind the wheel. "I don't think I will."

"But he's going to know where—" Sami's eyes sparked, and his lips twisted into a knowing grin. "You sly bastard."

"I have my moments. See you later, yeah?"

"Have fun," Sami called as he slammed the door shut.

* * *

"Here," Sasha announced, holding out a small bag. "It's got the lipstick and powder in it, and there's room for your phone and key and a couple of tissues."

Violet took the bag. As the clock raced to the time Finn said he would be there, her nervousness increased. Twice she had suggested she ditch the dress and wear jeans instead. Twice, Sasha had given her a look that would have made a dragon proud. Three times, she had been shushed before she could suggest she wash off the makeup. She had lost count of how many times she had fidgeted with the dress and gotten swatted.

"You look fantastic. Now stop," Sasha insisted, swatting Violet's hand away from the neckline of the dress. She gave it a gentle tug to expose just a hint more cleavage, then moved behind her to give her hair a final fluffing.

"I'm trying," Violet promised, unzipping the small purse to put her phone and key into it. She plucked her ID from her wallet and slipped that in as well. Then, recalling all the horror stories she had read, folded a couple of twenties and stuffed them in. About to zip it closed, she spotted something shiny behind the powder compact and plucked it out. "Sasha…"

"Better safe than sorry," the woman sang.

"He has plenty," Violet said, tossing the condom onto the bed. "But thanks just the same."

"Just looking out for my girl," Sasha said. "Are you sure you don't want me to give your hair a little more curl?"

"Positive." She had learned during those unending moments of Sasha wielding a curling iron that she was not one for hairstyling. She did admire the work the woman had done though. Her hair was pulled back from her face – except that damned annoying bit that was shorter than everything else – and Sasha had deftly twisted the locks to the crown of her head, where they were secured with bobby pins. Somehow they looked like a waterfall, joining the rest of her hair in a wave of tousled curls that fell to her waist. The entire time her fingers had been in her hair, Sasha had raved over its thickness and shininess and how well it behaved. Smiling, Violet turned and gave the other woman a quick hug. "Thanks again for doing all of this."

"Next time you won't need me, you'll be able to do it yourself."

"Wait, what—"

"He's here," Sasha announced at the sound of a knock on the door. She was already halfway across the room, but suddenly skidded to a stop and turned around. "You answer the door."

"But—"

"He's here to pick you up. He doesn't need to see me." Sasha was already at her side. She gave her a none-too-gentle nudge toward the door, then ducked into the bathroom. Half a second later, the red shawl sailed through the air, landing at Violet's feet.

"Unbelievable," Violet muttered. Snatching up the shawl, she shook it out and tossed it over one shoulder.

"Go," was all Sasha said before closing the bathroom door.

She took several deep breaths on her way across the room. Refusing to let her nerves get the better of her, she opened the door without hesitation. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she saw a pair of shoes. Lifting her head, she took in well-tailored slacks, a subdued belt buckle, a crisp white shirt tucked in. She caught sight of his hand moving and followed it up, watched the fingers adjust the knotted tie. A sigh passed her lips just as they began to curve into a smile, which she saw mirrored on his face.

"You look—" Her smile only widened as he spoke at the same time.

"Amazing," she finished.

"Stunning," he said. He extended his hand. "You ready?"

Her anxiety exited without a fight. All the work had been worth it, she decided, slipping her hand into his.

Later, she wouldn't be able to remember what she ate at dinner, or if she ate at all. She would remember the aromas of spicy food. The congenial server. The muffled clinking of china and crystal. And Finn. His smile. The soft light that seemed to dance in his eyes. The easy conversation about films and books. The lighthearted debate about _Star Wars_ , and whether or not the prequel trilogy had been well done. And, burned into her memory forever, his hand sliding across the table to touch hers.

She held her breath in anticipation as they entered the theater's lobby. Several dozen people milled about, buying tickets and lining up at the concession stand. Some were strolling around, focusing on the gilded ceiling, the framed posters and lobby cards from classic films, the old-fashioned velvet rope. Hand in Finn's, she followed along as he approached the ticket booth. The teenager behind the glass looked from Finn to her, and Violet didn't miss the brief expression of disgust. He didn't seem to notice, his attention on plucking money out of his wallet.

"Popcorn?" he asked as they crossed the lobby.

"I…" It was the last thing she needed. But the air was thick with the aroma and she nodded. His hand squeezed hers while they waited in line. She couldn't help but step closer to him, admiring his profile as he studied the menu board. As soon as he let go of her hand she missed the contact.

Seemingly without a thought, his fingers trailed her bare arm, then cupped her shoulder. Then, sending her a quick smile as they stepped forward in line, his arm slipped around her and guided her closer. "Extra butter?"

"Please," she answered with a warm smile. "And soda."

"Raisinets? Milk Duds – What the hell is a milk dud?" he asked.

"I think they're the caramel things. About this big?" She held her thumb and index finger apart. "Covered in chocolate."

"I thought those were Whoppers?"

"No, those are the malted milk balls."

"Ah." He nodded, guiding her up to the counter. And, to her shock, he ordered a box of each of the candies he'd mentioned, as well as two tubs of popcorn with extra butter and drinks.

"Good god," she muttered when he passed the boxes and the first tub of popcorn to her.

"I'm hungry," he explained. He squeezed her shoulder before his arm fell away. She opened her mouth to offer to pay for the snacks, but he was already handing over the cash, so she stayed silent.

In the theater, he insisted she choose where they sat. And didn't seem to mind when she led him to seats at the left wall. There was fumbling while they got seated. Violet finally got a taste of the exquisite popcorn just before the lights dimmed. It was cool, and she shifted, straining with her free hand to straighten the shawl over both her shoulders. Then she felt his hand helping. It slipped beneath her hair, smoothing the red silk. Sighing at the feel of his fingers gently rubbing the back of her neck, she turned her head to thank him.

His lips covered hers before she could. His tongue danced over hers, warming her better than the shawl ever would, and she sighed happily.

"I've wanted to do that all night," he whispered, lips moving to her ear.

"Why did you wait?" she asked, keeping her voice low as the lights went out.

"Because," he said, his voice a low whisper only she could hear, "I'm a gentleman."

"I'm not," she pointed out.

He pressed his lips to her temple, his chuckle lightly vibrating her skin. "Then you won't be insulted if I ask you back to my place?"

She could hear a preview playing. The voices in it were vaguely familiar, but she was caught by Finn's question and couldn't pull away to see what the preview was for. "Why would a gentleman ask me that?"

"He wants to show you his stamp collection," he muttered.

"I thought you collected Lego," she whispered.

" _A thaisce_ …"

She dared a peek at the movie screen. Recognizing the movie preview, she turned her full attention back to him. Finding his lips for a brief kiss, she nodded. "I'd love to. But…"

"But?"

"I want a tour."

He chuckled again, and she was suddenly grateful no one was sitting near them. "My place isn't that big."

"Then you'll have to give me something else to tour," she teased.

* * *

"Did you want tea or anything?" Finn asked while he closed the door. A few steps ahead of him, Violet leaned against the wall and bent to remove her sandals. He watched her, one hand lifting to loosen his tie.

"Tour first," she said, unwinding the shawl from her shoulders. She straightened, the wavy curtain of her hair falling away. Whether she meant it or not, the look she gave him was filled with lust. He stepped forward, heart thudding.

"Kitchen," he whispered when she caught his tie and tugged him down for a kiss. He gestured behind him with one hand before clutching her waist. Guiding her further into the apartment, he winced when he inadvertently walked her into the table between the kitchen and living area. Breaking the kiss, he motioned to the table. "Lego building station."

She giggled, arms circling his neck. "No home is complete without one, right?"

"My thoughts exactly." He pushed his lips to hers, one hand reaching between them to fully loosen his tie. Her fingers were immediately at his neck, plucking open the buttons of his shirt, and he moaned as they danced over his bare skin. Pulling her away from the table, he guided her into the living area. "Living room," he whispered between kisses, releasing her when she began pushing at his jacket. He felt it fall but didn't care where it landed. "Couch from Ikea."

"Fascinating," she said, eyes never leaving him.

His hands roamed her back, searching for the zipper. Giving up the search, he pulled at the skirt, fingers grazing sinfully soft upper thighs as he guided her into the bedroom. She broke away long enough to give the room a cursory glance, then walked backwards to the bed. He stared, drinking in her pink cheeks and wide eyes. Her fingers slipped into her hair, and seconds later he heard something clatter on the nightstand.

"Finn?" she asked, and he immediately crossed the room to her. Her lips were heavenly soft and returned his kiss with the passion he had only ever found in her. "That was an awfully quick tour…"

"It's not over yet," he promised. Her hands were everywhere, it seemed, and before he could calculate what they were doing his shirt was being pushed down his arms. He heard the clink of his belt buckle a few seconds later.

"There's more?" she whispered, pulling her hands away and reaching behind her neck.

The sound of her dress unzipping filled the room. He watched it loosen at her shoulders, then reached to help it down, pressing his face to the side of her neck. "You haven't had a tour of the bed, _a thaisce_."

"How long does that tour last?" she murmured. Warm, soft fingers stroked his abdomen, then grasped the waistband of his slacks. She tipped her head back, gasping as his lips trailed up her neck, over her jaw, and across her cheek to her mouth.

"A while…" His slacks loosened, and he stepped out of them an instant before her hands clutched his waist and tugged. Lying over her, he carefully removed her glasses and set them aside. Then he offered her another kiss. "At least a couple hours."

"Is it a thorough tour?" Her voice was barely above a breathy whisper.

"No," he answered, kissing the tip of her nose. "The thorough tour lasts all night."

Her body rolled beneath his, sending a ripple of lust down his spine. "I'd like that tour, please…"

He chuckled, blindly reaching to switch on the lamp. "As you wish, _a thaisce_."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"I want to be a part of it… New York, New York," Violet sang softly as the plane landed. Next to her, Finn chuckled. Grinning, she unbuckled her seatbelt once allowed and gathered her bag. She slipped her hand into his without thinking, letting him lead the way down the aisle and off the plane. To her surprise, he had arranged tickets for her and Steve on the same flight to New York that he was taking. She was too giddy with excitement about finally being in the city to ask too many questions, though.

She had gone over her schedule with a fine toothed comb, asking Steve for input, and had arranged enough time to get to see some of the sites she longed to see. The Statue of Liberty. The Empire State Building. The 9/11 Memorial. The Met. Times Square. Cramming all of that in around the busy schedule of the WWE was going to be exhausting, but she knew she had just another week before going back home. Where she could unpack and relax and not have to think about travel for a long time.

Damn, she was going to miss it, she thought as she and Finn headed in the direction of baggage claim. She was going to miss the conversations, learning so much about the business and the shows and the people that put their bodies on the line. She would even miss traveling, because she had seen more of the country in the past couple of weeks than she had her entire life. She would miss the thrill of experiencing it all live. She would miss her talks with other fans outside of arenas, fans who shared her passion for professional wrestling.

She would miss Kevin, who wasn't a grumpy bear of a man after all. And Sami, who was silly and quirky yet serious about his work at the same time. And the girls, as she had come to think of them. Becky, Sasha, Charlotte, Bayley, and Nia had become a group of women she adored. They were open and honest and simply fun to be around.

She would miss Finn.

She gave his hand a squeeze while they waited for their baggage. Saddened by the realization that she only had a few more precious days with him, she suddenly wondered what would happen when she returned to Miami. He would continue hitting the road for several days out of the week. While she sat at home. With only her cactus for company.

"What's got you frowning, _a thaisce_?" he asked, dragging her from her thoughts.

"Just thinking." She couldn't tell him. She wasn't sure she would be prepared for his answer. What if she was just a diversion for him? Forcing that thought away, she smiled up at him. "Trying to calculate how much sleep I'll get this week."

"I saw that schedule of yours. You'll probably be getting two hours a night," he teased.

"By my calculations, I should be getting five," she corrected, reaching for her suitcase when she saw it.

"You forgot to synchronize your schedule with mine."

"Yours?"

"I have three hours per night dedicated to making love to you."

"Jesus," she choked, relieved no one was standing right on top of them and could hear his words. _Making love_. Is that how he thought of it? Feeling her mouth curve into the silliest of smiles, she turned to face him and drew in a breath to speak.

"Oh, before I forget, my parents are coming in a couple days," he said, grinning while he grabbed his suitcase. Once he'd righted it on the floor and extended the handle, he reached for her hand again.

"They'll be here for SummerSlam?" Earlier thoughts gone, she threaded her fingers between his. She could practically feel his excitement over their visit, and, infected by it, smiled. About to follow the tug of his hand and walk off, she paused when she spotted Steve.

"Go on," he said before she could speak. "I've got an Uber coming. I'll meet you at the hotel."

"See you," she called as she and Finn headed off. Why hadn't she thought of getting an Uber? It would be impossible to get a taxi, she was sure. And she didn't dare try to rent a car and drive in New York City.

Obviously sensing her worry, Finn gave her hand a squeeze. "I've got a car. Hunter told me it would be waiting outside."

Violet breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm assuming since you're dragging me along with you, I'll be riding in the same car?"

"I figured I'd stow you away in the back," he said with an easy grin. His eyes scanned their surroundings, and his hand released hers, moving to lightly cup her elbow. "There it is."

She recognized the man standing next to a gleaming black SUV as one of the company's security personnel. She couldn't remember his name, though, and thanked him softly when he opened the door and motioned for her to climb in. A large man in a suit sat behind the wheel, and greeted them both with a nod while the security guy loaded their suitcases in the back. "Wow," she whispered, settling back on the plush leather seat. "Hunter sure knows how to order a car…"

Finn laughed, and leaned forward to speak to the driver briefly. When he settled back, his arm draped around her shoulders. "To answer your question, yes they'll be here for SummerSlam. They weren't able to see many of my NXT matches except for the one I had in Ireland, so they're excited. I'm excited." He grinned. "It'll mean a lot, having them there."

"Do you know yet what the outcome will be?" she asked softly as the SUV pulled away from the curb.

"I might. I might not." His lips met her forehead. "You'll never know."

"I don't want to know the outcome," she insisted as he sat back, rolling her eyes when he dramatically pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Fine, fine, I won't ask again. Promise."

"Grand!" he enthused, leaning forward again. Violet was just able to hear his rapid whispering, and saw the security guard glance back with an amused expression.

Once Finn settled back, she raised an eyebrow. "What—"

"Look," he said, pointing out the window to her left.

She did, gasping at the sight of the Statue of Liberty. Scooting closer to the window, she gazed out as the skyline of the city came into view, brilliant in the early afternoon sunshine. It glinted off of windows, glowed on brick. She could just make out the Empire State Building and began to grin when music filled the inside of the car. Turning to look at Finn, she felt her grin widen as Frank Sinatra's voice began to croon from the speakers. "You remembered."

"Of course I did. And you were right." His thumb brushed one corner of her mouth. "It does make you smile."

* * *

"Are you sure we're allowed up here?"

"Would you relax, man? It's fine."

"I just don't want to get into trouble…"

"You can't get in trouble if you don't get caught."

"But you said it's fine—"

Finn shook his head, holding back a laugh while he followed Sami and Karl up the narrow flight of stairs. Behind him, Kevin chuckled. Sami and Karl continued their muttered bickering, until Kevin opened the heavy metal door leading to the roof. Finn knew better than to ask where Karl had gotten the key, and breathed in the cool summer morning air as he stepped outside.

The city was hazy, the bright lights and signs muted in the last moments before the sun rose. To the east he could see the first hints of dawn. Taking a sip of his coffee, he followed the others to a metal unit that jutted from the roof.

"Why didn't you bring Violet?" Karl asked once they were all seated.

"She's not one for sunrises," he said with a chuckle. He'd told her of Karl's plan. When she'd groaned and begged for ten more minutes he knew she wouldn't make it. It occurred to him that they could sneak up and view the sunrise the next morning alone, and he smiled. "Besides, she was up late last night, and—"

His three friends broke into a knowing chorus of "ooh" accompanied by grins, and he rolled his eyes.

"She was working," he said.

"Oh I bet she was," Karl muttered. Rewarded with a hearty laugh from Sami, he grinned.

Finn rolled his eyes again. Let them think what they wanted, but he knew Violet had been working at her computer until nearly three. He'd fallen asleep, and had roused at one point to see her sitting at the desk in the hotel room they were sharing, her face illuminated by the glow from her laptop screen. Her fingers had been moving at a breakneck speed. When he'd softly asked when she was coming to bed, she had murmured it would be just a few more minutes. The clock had read two forty-four when she'd closed her laptop and climbed into bed.

"Are you going to introduce her to your parents?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah." His mother had guessed he'd met someone. He didn't know how. But during their phone conversation the previous day she had asked gentle, probing questions, until he'd found himself telling her about Violet. And from across the ocean he had felt her smile. All she had said was she couldn't wait to meet her, and that she hoped there would be time for her and his father to get to know her a little.

"A little soon to be meeting the folks," Karl observed.

"Not really," Sami chimed in. "They live far away and the schedule is so rigorous. You have to fit it in when you can."

"Yeah, but—"

"And if he feels their relationship is ready for that, it's his decision," Sami went on. "Besides, it's not like meeting the parents means they're getting married next week."

"Oh, damn, it doesn't? I'll cancel the order I put in for an engagement ring," Finn quipped, a laugh bubbling out when Sami's eyes widened. "I'm kidding."

"But it's serious, isn't it?" Kevin asked a moment later.

Finn watched the first rays of sunlight burn off the early morning mist. The city that never slept was shaking off the night. He could faintly smell baked goods. "I think it is."

"After two and a half weeks?"

"When you know, you know." Karl slung an arm around Finn and squeezed. "So you know?"

"Well—I—She—I don't—Um—" Finn stammered. Couldn't they talk about work? About his huge match? About the weather? About Sami's cats or Kevin's kids or Karl's new house? About anything other than his relationship with Violet?

"You're blushing!" Karl began to grin.

"Shut the fuck up," he muttered, rubbing at his flaming cheeks.

"I'm not asking if you're thinking about getting a ring. It's way too fucking soon for that. Shit, man, I've seen you with her. You're all…" Karl paused, gesturing with both hands.

"Twitterpated," Kevin announced.

"What?" Sami and Karl asked.

"Twitterpated," Kevin said again. Scowling when three pairs of eyes looked at him skeptically, he grunted. "Haven't you assholes ever seen _Bambi_?"

"Yeah… Thirty years ago," Karl snorted. "What the fuck is twitterpated?"

"It's the spring scene where all the animals are starting to pair off with mates." Kevin took a sip of coffee. "And of course they're all acting stupid. Running around and making fools of themselves to get noticed. So the owl tells Bambi and Thumper and Flower that they're twitterpated. They say that'll never happen to them, but of course it does."

Finn, Sami, and Karl stared at Kevin. Finn could tell the other two were just as dumbfounded, surprised, and amused as he was.

"Oh, to hell with you guys," Kevin muttered. "It fits Finn. And Violet."

"I'm not _twitterpated_ ," Finn insisted, nearly disgusted by having his feelings for her reduced to such a ridiculous word. A word from a Disney movie, at that. "I'm just…"

"Weak in the knees? Head in a whirl? Light as a feather? Walking on air?"

"Well… Yeah, sometimes," he admitted. When she kissed him. When she slipped her hand into his. When she looked at him and smiled. When she whispered his name.

"Knocked for a loop?"

"You could say that." When she sought him out backstage.

"And completely lost your head," Kevin murmured.

"Once in a while…" When he finished a match and wanted only to see her.

"Well then…" Kevin took a sip of coffee and stared out at the city. "You're twitterpated, friend."

* * *

 **A/N: Things appear to be going well for Finn and Violet, don't they? :)**


End file.
